Chuck vs the Scarlet Ibis
by HATEmach1ne
Summary: What happens when Sarah and Casey get captured by Fulcrum? What revelations are revealed about the lovable nerd they came to know? How will they react? Will it be in kind or in disgust? Read to find out! First fanficion! Hope you enjoy. Chapter 5 Up!
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck, but if I did, Chuck and Sarah would get their heads out of their butts and love each other. _

_A/N: Ibis pronounced Eye-bis for clarification!_

**Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis**

**Chapter 1**

**Fulcrum Warehouse**

**Unknown Location**

**12:00 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

It starts out like a regular mission for Team Bartowski. Get in, grab the information, and get back out. It's not the style of Team Bartowski to do the things the easy way though. Something always went wrong, like right now.

"CASEY? SARAH?" Chuck shouts when the communication gear starts registering the buzz of static. The instant they infiltrate the warehouse that is home to the information they are looking for, silent alarms are tripped and the communication links are cut.

Just before the com links are cut, Chuck hears Sarah scream, "CHUCK, GET OUT OF HERE NOW!" She fully knows Chuck will do his best to help them, but in this instant, she hopes he is not going to be a retard and go in and try to save them.

Chuck, on the other hand, knows what he was doing, but he has to make a quick stop at his house. Chuck pulls out his phone and dials a number that he hasn't dialed in two years.

***

"Beckman, secure."

"Scarlet Ibis, secure."

The name strikes Beckman like the cold hard steel of a gun barrel impacting against the side of her skull. The name rings with such intensity that it begins to reverberate in her head over and over. She hasn't heard the name in almost two years. A muffled, "General," comes through, shattering her from the reverie.

"What is the meaning of this?"

"Requesting a search and rescue missions for Agents Sarah Walker of the CIA and Major John Casey of the NSA."

She listens to the cold and calculating voice, so different from the voice she has heard so many times before. She had heard stories about an agent, codenamed Scarlet Ibis. She never thought she would ever get to work with his prowess. She knew what Mr. Bartowski was capable of, but he just didn't have the right motivations to step up. She now had her secret weapon in play, ready to be deployed to the more deplorable situations. His legendary skills were a thing of legends and myths in the CIA ranks.

"Request acknowledged. Bring them home alive Agent."

"Understood."

"Approach with caution, two of our top agents were ambushed by those Fulcrum Agents.

"Don't doubt my skill General, this isn't my first mission."

"I have no reason to doubt you. Your skills are legendary."

"Thank you General."

"Ibis, I have one more objective to add to your current assignment. Work your way through the Fulcrum operatives in the facility and destroy the cell. Extract any information you may find. Bring those agents back alive. Understood?"

"Crystal, General. Ibis, out."

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**12:40 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

Scarlet Ibis pulls up to the apartment he shared with his sister. After this mission is over, he would have to reveal the life he had before the Buy More days. His whole life would change once again like it did with the addition of the Intersect in his head. He opens the door silently, making noise only when inserting the key into the lock and turning it. He moves stealthily to his room and turns on the lights. Reaching into his closet, his hand searches for a secret switch that will open the secret compartment in his closet. As his hand hits the switch, a retina scan begins and correctly identifies him as Agent Charles "Scarlet Ibis" Bartowski.

As the secret compartment opens, his mind drifts to thoughts about what Sarah would think about this new revelation about him. No doubt would she be angry because he kept this from her. She probably searched his name before moving to Los Angeles to retrieve the Intersect database. Little did she know, his mission dossiers and files were removed from the database when he returned to civilian life.

The click of the secret compartment opening breaks him from his musings and he reaches in and pulls out a USP .45. Next, he pulls out his custom made set of ceramic throwing knives that never dull. Ceramic made the flight patterns more random, but he had long ago learned to compensate. Besides, they are lighter and one of the greater perks were that he was able to move through airport security without getting stopped for carrying knives. He slides the knives through his hands getting familiar again with the feeling of the hilt against his palm, the knife edge, cold as steel against his fingers. He slides a finger down the blade, shuddering as the sharp edge ran its course against him. He then reaches in and pulls out a long silver case, which holds his signature gun, an L96A1 sniper rifle.

His mind brings the thoughts of the mission he had two and a half years ago to the front of his mind. He was stationed in Moscow, Russia and his mission objective was to eliminate Russian terrorist, Egor Danil.

***

**Moscow, Russia**

**Unknown Location**

**9:00 PM**

**November 30, 2005**

The snow falls around him, dropping in sheets of white, reminding him of his hometown in Hartford. He steals a glance into the sky before quickly resuming his surveillance on his target. Through the binoculars, he can see his target sitting down to his evening meal. His L96A1 sniper rifle sits at his side, camouflaged to blend into the snowy white environment. As he shifts his body to look through the scope of his sniper rifle, he notes the time. He is situated above a railroad station, and notices that in 10 minutes, the train will be running below him. It gives him ample coverage for the sound of the shot. As he lay prone in the snow, he let his thoughts drift to his sister, Ellie.

He looked up to his sister. His sister had always been there when their parents weren't. Their mother left them at a young age and their father was never really there after. He was there physically, but both Ellie and he knew his mind was a thousand miles away, walking along a train track in solitude, trying to sort out the mess his life had become. They supported each other and Ellie had helped him through the tragedy of family Bartowski. She had watched him grow from young boy, to an adolescent, to an adult. Well, he was technically an adult, but he still acted like he was 15 sometimes. Granted, he knew how to do many things those 15 year olds did not know how to do. She was there when his best friend at Stanford, Bryce Larkin, framed him for cheating and getting him expelled.

He was approached by two men shortly after his expulsion.

***

_**Echo Park, California**_

_**Casa Bartowski**_

_**5:00 PM**_

_**September 16, 2003**_

_Hearing a faint knocking at the door, Chuck wondered who it could be at 5 in the evening. When he opens the door, he is surprised to see two men, dressed in black suits wearing sunglasses._

"_Chuck Bartowski?" the man on the right asked._

"_Hi, I'm Chuck Bartowski," he replied, clearly taken aback at how they knew his name._

"_We would like you to come with us," the man on the left supplied._

"_Who are you? What do you want with me? Was it about the car I scratched when I pulled into the parking lot the other day? I didn't mean to do that. I'm so sorry. If we can exchange insurance information –."_

"_The man on the left interrupted his babbling and flatly said, "No Mr. Bartowski, we work for the **CIA **and your performance at Stanford impressed us. We would like you to join us and serve your country._

_Chuck was after all looking for a job after his expulsion from Stanford, and if the **CIA **thought he was a good candidate for a job, why not take take the job. The blow at Stanford made its way to the front of his mind and the thought resonated in his heart and he made a spur of the moment decision._

"_What do I need to do?" he asked._

_Both men smiled and the one on the right simply said, "Just follow us."_

***

**Moscow, Russia**

**Unknown Location**

**9:09 PM**

**November 30, 2005**

As he comes back to his senses, he checks his watch and sees that it is 9:09, one minute until the train flies by. He readies his sniper rifle and adjusts the scope so that the shot will hit its target accurately, straight through the head. Adjusting for flight time and wind speed, as well as smashing through the tiny snowflakes that begin to come down quicker and harder, he steadies his breathing. The slow rhythm of his breathing calms down his nerves and the blood pounding in his ears begin to dissipate. He exhales the breath he holds in preparation of the shot. Squeezing the trigger, the bullet flies out into the night sky, hitting its apex, then making its descent to its target. The boom of the sniper rifle is silenced as the train flies by underneath him. The bullet penetrates the glass and whizzes straight to the head of Egor Danil before the glass can hit the ground. He pulls the bolt of the rifle up and back, causing the bullet casing to pop out with a soft _clunk_ as it hits the ground. He peers into his sniper rifle once more to confirm the kill.

Egor Danil is lying face down across his dining table, face in his food as blood leaks out all over the table, running across the table and dripping to the floor. He can see the bullet hole in the back of his head and the bullet hole in the wall behind him. It was an eerie sight to behold. He has done this countless of times and the shock of it all is still there. How could he take a human life? What were his motives? Questions flew into his mind and he blew them off, stowing them into the back of his mind. As time goes on and his mission successes start to stack up, it begins to take its toll. He vows to himself that this is it. He is done with the Agency.

He slings the sniper rifle across his shoulder and looks through his binoculars once more. Nobody has moved to go check on the dead man yet. He turns around and begins to move towards the motorcycle he has hidden in the bushes. He pulls out his phone and dials a number that is all too familiar.

"Graham, Secure."

"Ibis, Secure. Mission complete. Returning to the nest. We have matters to discuss."

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**12:43 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

Returning to the matter at hand, he assembles the L96A1 sniper rifle with a deft hand that is accustomed to the motions. He can still see the hint of the white spray paint from the last mission he used his sniper rifle on. After attaching the normal sniper scope, he decides to remove it and he instead attaches a sniper scope that has the ability for night vision. After attaching suppressors to both his weapons, he slings the rifle across his shoulder and tucks the USP .45 into the waistbands of his pants. He straps the knives around his ankle and moves to open the Morgan Door. Taking one last look at the place he has called home for the last two years, he slinks into the night becoming a shadow, moving towards the surveillance van. He has one more stop to make.

**Burbank, California**

**Storage Garage**

**12:57 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

He opens the door of the garage, pushing it up and over. He looks into the dimly lit space. He spots the thing he is looking for. There it is, his black Yamaha R1 motorcycle, with a red streak across the front. Loading it into the back of the van, he gives it a once over and he seems to be satisfied with its condition. It has been ages since he had ridden the bike and he misses the feeling of the wind rushing through his curly, unkempt hair. He walks around to the front of the van and hops into the driver's seat. Flooring the gas pedal, he begins to head towards the warehouse where his CIA and NSA protectors, come friends, are being held and most likely, being tortured.

*******

**Fulcrum Warehouse (Interior)**

**Unknown Location**

**1:00 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

As Sarah watched Casey get smacked around like a piñata strung up at a party, she couldn't help but let her mind wander towards Chuck. The first time she met him, she labeled him as the pinnacle of geekiness. The short sleeve, white button up shirt, the black slacks, and the well-worn out Chuck Taylors he always wore. He even had a pocket protector that was accompanied by a myriad of pens. Yup, he was what she epitomized as a geek. As she began to work with him, she started to see what kind of person he was. He was a good guy who would drop what he was doing to help a person in trouble. She had stared into his chocolate brown eyes countless of times, and she is always surprised to see his eyes alight and dancing. There was a shine that was lost long ago to her. She admired his positive outlook on life, believing that the world was essentially good even with all the evil running around. That had ceased to exist in her world as she began to work in the Agency.

Her heart shatters, when he fake breaks up their cover relationship. As she watches him walk across to go see the sandwich maker, Lou Palone, she feels jealous. As hard as she tried to suppress the emotion, she felt jealous. Sure she had felt jealous before, but nothing like this. She felt like her heart was going to be ripped out of her chest. It hurt to see the twinkle in his sepia spheres as he talked to the deli owner. She pushed the emotion to the back of her mind, essentially hiding it, but it came to rear its green head the next night as she essentially breaks up the relationship between Chuck and Lou. Deep down, she is happy it is over, but when Chuck confronts her about it, she denies feeling jealous, but essentially she is.

The next night find them at the docks where they are to intercept a shipment believed to be a bomb. As both find themselves in front of the bomb with only seconds to spare, they say their final good byes, and Sarah lets her emotional masks fall and lunges at him, capturing his lips in hers. It takes him a millisecond to react, opening his mouth to her probing tongue, taking in the taste of her fruity lip gloss. Her probing tongue wrestles with his, trying to dominate the other. Neither care about the victor of that fight, they just care that their mouth's are on each others. The other party also reacts to the kiss. The nerdy appearance he always had never eluded to the fact that he could kiss. And boy could he kiss. He slowly devoured her mouth, and if his arms weren't supporting her, she would surely have slumped to the ground, her knees giving out. She tasted him and she liked it. It was a spicy cinnamon taste that she recognized as his toothpaste mixed with another taste. She later deduced that taste to be a milk chocolate as she bit into the guilty piece. She loved the taste of him and how she felt when he kissed her. She had never felt more alive and wanted.

Unfortunately, the kiss ends after a few seconds when both parties realize the fact that they aren't dead, which is followed by an awkward silence where one party is lamenting the fact that they had showed emotion while the other rejoiced in the show of emotion in the other.

They then leap frog over several obstacles, such as her ex-boyfriend, Bryce Larkin, rising from the dead and being shot again by Casey. Bryce told her their code word, "Omaha," signaling that she should follow him. Two weeks before, they were at Chuck's old school, Stanford. There they found a disc that talked about Chuck's recruitment into the CIA, but Bryce had interrupted on behalf of Chuck, saying that the work of a spy would break him. She would have met Chuck at Project Omaha if Bryce hadn't had a god/hero complex and she wondered what they would be doing right now if they had met at Project Omaha. They would probably be located in some seedy country, making love in the dim light, basking in the success of another mission. That hope was long ago dashed by Bryce Larkin when he got Chuck kicked out of Stanford.

Later that night, she found herself staring down at the City of Angels, Los Angeles, getting ready to leave with Bryce. As her hotel phone rang, she also found her iPhone buzzing. She stared in disbelief at the timing of each call. Looking between each, she thought about what she should do. Her CIA training told her to go with Bryce, taking down Fulcrum from within, while her heart told her another thing. Her heart told her to stay with Chuck. Her heart told her that Chuck is the better man. Her heart told her there was ONLY one Chuck Bartowski in the world. As she stood there lost in thought, her hotel phone ceases to ring while her iPhone continues its insistent buzzing. Smiling at the thought of Chuck's attempts at speaking to her, she strips out of her coat and into something more comfortable to sleep in and falls onto her bed and dives into a deep slumber.

The next morning finds her troubled and she lashes out at Chuck. Later at the Christmas party, Chuck and she make up essentially becoming friends, but they both knew, there was a greater emotion lying beneath the friendship. A connection that was so palpable that everybody she has met can tell. Ellie, Awesome, Carina, and even Casey can tell there is a connection. They then hop over the extraction of Chuck. On the helipad, she shows Chuck her emotions, letting the tears slide down her face as she watched him give his life for the ones he loved. He cracked a joke that made her smile, albeit a sad one. When Lizzy makes her surprise cameo and takes out Longshore, she is able to take Chuck and run for it. When she incapacitates Lizzy, they eliminate the threat of extraction for Chuck.

They dig around for Captain Awesome's ring in a dumpster. She complains about moving around in a trash can, but she bites back anymore complaining after he tells her it is a special ring that cannot be replaced. She admires his traits of loyalty and honesty and in that thought, she wishes for the normality he has shown her. She longs for the white picket fence and 2.5 kids as she watches him through the window, saving the day once again for his sister and her fiancée. Casey breaks her out of her thoughts and tells her what she already knows, he can't stay here forever. She sets her mind to the thought that she would do anything to try and give him his time with his sister for as long as he needed.

She is brought back to the present as Casey's grunts become less and less frequent; she slips in and out of slumber, the toll of staying awake for more than 20 hours finally hitting her. She falls into a deep slumber and the last thought she had was, "Chuck, be safe."

**Fulcrum Warehouse**

**Unknown Location**

**1:34 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

Before finding himself again at the front end of the Fulcrum warehouse, Ibis makes a stop at Castle to snag a few flashbangs and smoke grenades. Giving himself a once over, he prepares the L96A1, currently camouflaged in the green of the surrounding forest, to take the shot on the sniper on the roof. As he waits for the sniper to report, he wonders what is happening to Casey and Sarah. He hopes not too much damage has been done.

As he spots the sniper reporting in, he looks into the scope and points it towards the head of the sniper. From the safety of the bush he is lying prone in, he gently flirts with the trigger as he waits for the sniper to put the radio down. Seeing his chance, Ibis squeezes the trigger, the bullet soaring towards its destination and it lodges into the head of the enemy agent.

Spotting two more guards at the entrance, Chuck moves around to the side to take a single shot that would eliminate both men at the same time. He props himself onto one knee and takes aim, his movements precise and quick. His lithe form can be described as a ghost, floating across the ground, making no noise and giving no signs of its existence. Pulling the trigger once again, he takes out the two sentinels, a single bullet ripping through each skull only to find itself in the wall behind them. Moving stealthily up to each body, he drags both into the bushes, while simultaneously stripping them of their guns. Both guards carry a suppressed MP-7 submachine gun, perfect for close quarter combat situations. He slings both over his shoulder, but allows one to rest against his chest as he moves the other to rest in front of his shoulder.

Head cocked to the side, trigger finger at the ready, he reaches out with his left hand to open the door. Pointing the gun at the door, Ibis opens it and peers through and sees a long corridor.

He slowly approaches the first door off to the side, stacking up next to the door, he reaches over and opens the door. He flashes on both occupants, who scramble for their weapons. He had long ago learned how to control flashes, but for the sake of his civilian life, he acted like he didn't. Confirming both are Fulcrum, he takes two shots which pierce the head of both enemy agents. Stowing both bodies into the closet in the room, he continues his stealthy movement down the hall. After taking out whatever Fulcrum agents he found in the facility, he finally reaches the room housing Sarah and Casey.

Ibis reloads his MP-7 and rips two flashbangs off his belt. Pulling the pins off each, he quickly grabs the doorknob, yanks the door open, while throwing both the flashbangs in different directions. Quickly shutting it, he listens for the distinct sounds of the muffled "bang" and the white light that would surge under the door. As the white light flares and the muffled bang is heard, he yanks open the door sighting three enemy agents trying to take cover behind various objects.

Another agent is laying on the floor, unable to move, being fully stunned by the flashbang that landed to his side. Quickly moving into the room and taking cover, he takes the headshot on the man lying on the ground before moving his attention to the three other agents. They begin to return fire as their senses come back to fully functioning. As one peaks his head out from behind a wooden crate, Ibis peaks out and sights his weapon, shooting him in the head and splattering his brain across the wall. When he peaks back out, he see another agent poke his head out and he subsequently takes him out as well.

Not seeing the other enemy agent, he turns around to find him behind him gun out, taking the shot at his chest. Ibis feels the pain as his body is impacted by the bullet, but he is able to point the gun at the enemy agent's hand and shoot the gun away. Luckily, he is wearing a vest and survives the would be lethal shot. Rushing his attacker, he throws a right cross that connects with the enemy's face making him take a step back. Kicking out with his right leg, Ibis strikes his knees, popping it out of its socket and the agent falls to his knees. Moving swiftly behind him, Ibis wraps his left arm around the man's neck and squeezes and sharply jerks his forearm to the right while the right hand guides the man's head to the left, the familiar sound of a neck snapping signifying the loss of a life.

**Fulcrum Warehouse**

**Sarah's Cell**

**1:59 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

The sounds of fighting stir Sarah from her slumber. She takes a side glance at Casey, noting the damage done to his face. His left eye is swollen shut, cuts adorning his face, painting it red, and the underlying blue-black of the bruises across his face mix with the red creating an eerie sight. As she listens to the scuffling outside, she slows her breathing to get ready for what was going to open the door next. She hears a gunshot go off and she instantly snaps to attention. She closes her eyes, psyching her self up for the impending confrontation. The sounds of fighting die outside her room and she sees the doorknob start to turn. To say she is surprised to see who it is would be an understatement. She is shocked and surprised as a myriad of other emotions flitt across her face normally stoic persona, as her eyes registere the brown eyes and curly brown hair that she has come to care about.

_A/N: I was reading fanfics one day and thought to myself, "Hm, why not write a fanfic?" I turned on Microsoft Word and stared at the computer screen thinking of a plot. Any and all mistakes are mine. This isn't beta'd and if you would like to beta it for me, just send me a PM! I'm pretty sure I dropped the ball on the Beckman/Ibis conversation, but hey, what can a little improvement do? Thanks for reading. R&R! _


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: If I owned Chuck, in episode 2.21, Chuck would have had a condom, Fulcrum wouldn't have bothered them, and Casey would not have interrupted. That didn't happen though right? So I guess the only conclusion we can come to is that I don't own Chuck. _

_A/N: I just had to get this out tonight before school started again. Shoutouts to Wepdiggy and londonwriting for the tips. I present to you, Chapter two._

**Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis**

**Chapter 2**

**Langley, Virginia**

**Scarlet Ibis' Apartment**

**3:00 PM Eastern**

**December 20, 2005**

Ibis takes one last look at the building he lived in for the past two years. Walking to the sidewalk, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, reaching into the manila folder currently in his grasp. He extracts a driver's license, birth certificate, social security card, and a myriad of other items that he had lost so long ago. He takes a look at the ID card. It reads: Charles Irving Bartowski, Male, 6'3, and every other bit of information one needs on him. Reaching into his back pocket, he extracts his wallet and slides the appropriate items into the sleeves of his wallet. He hails down a cab, and the first thing he does as Chuck Bartowski again, is to call his beloved sister, Eleanor Fay Bartowski.

"Hello?"

"Hi, sis."

She freezes at the voice she had not heard from in such a long time. Tears find their way to her eyes, and a single tear drops down her cheek. She dabs at it and composes herself for the upcoming conversation.

"What do you want?" she says, unable to keep the biting venom out of her voice.

"I'm coming home."

The last line shakes her to her core. The cold she felt for him instantly abates and she feels an insurmountable joy as she repeats the words in her mind.

She feigns misunderstanding and asks him again, "You're what?"

"I'm coming home Ellie," Chuck smiling, knowing his sister had heard him the first time.

Chuck holds the phone away from his ear as the piercing shriek reverberates inside the cab. Chuck smiles at the thought of his sister's face as she sees him for the first time since he left to work for the CIA. The cabbie gives him a look of annoyance through the rear view mirror. Grinning sheepishly, he murmurs, "Sorry."

"What time will you be here?" she questions enthusiastically. She cannot hold her excitement in, the joy dripping from her voice.

"I'll be home in a couple of hours. I'm currently on the way to the airport now."

"Well, get here as soon as you can! I can't wait to see you little brother!" she exclaims before hanging up the phone. She has many things to do for her brother's homecoming.

Chuck flips the phone close and smiles inwardly.

Yup, it's good to be back.

***

**Echo Park **

**Casa Bartowski**

**5:00 PM PST**

**December 20, 2005**

"OH MY GOD, I'M SO GLAD THAT YOU'RE HOME!" she squeals as she wraps him in the patented Ellie hug, a crushing bear hug that will guarantee the receiver loss of breath and the inability to talk for a short period of time.

"ELLIE, I NEED TO BREATHE!" Chuck manages to puff out.

"Oh, sorry," she says sheepishly with an impish grin plastered on her face. "I'm just really glad you're home. I haven't seen you in 2 years baby brother, so don't blame me for being happy."

"Gotchya, so what's on the menu? I've missed your cooking. Take out gets old after a while."

She smiles and simply says, "Follow me."

Leading him to a table, Ellie smiles as his brother reacts to the meal she has for him. His eyes light up with delight and she can tell he is truly grateful to be home, and in reality, she is too. It had been just them for too long, and she did not want to be so far from her brother anymore. She looks over to see her fiancée Devon, or Captain Awesome in Chuck's eyes, greet him with a loud boom and a high shrilling slap on the back. She watches her brother reach his hand behind him to sooth the stinging flesh. She hears him say, "Okay Devon, that was not AWESOME. I just got home man." All Devon does is laugh and wraps him in a bear hug and directs him to his seat at the table.

The talk begins light, full of laughter and smiling, and as the questions become more serious, Chuck's eyes begin to darken and cloud to ebony. The miniscule change does not go unnoticed by his sister though. One question in particular piques her interest.

"So Chuck, what did you do as you traveled the world?" Devon asks.

The silence following the question quickly becomes uncomfortable. The answer that leaves her brother's mouth is what nobody would have seen coming. Before he begins, he takes a deep breath, calming the butterflies in his stomach. "Okay, the truth is…"

He spends the next hour clueing them in on what he has been doing, starting from his recruitment on that fateful night of September 16 two years ago. Devon and Ellie sit in shock as he talks about the numerous numbers of missions he had gone, their faces betraying the underlying emotions. As he finishes, he feels the hand of his sister impact the side of his face, the sound did not betray the true power behind the slap.

"Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you trust me, Chuck? I'm your sister for goodness sakes! I've wondered where you have gone for the last two years and now I figure out you are a gun toting SUPERSPY?! You fly around the world, getting into dangerous situations where you can get hurt, where you can…" she drifts off, allowing Chuck to finish it in his own mind.

"Ellie, calm down. The only reason I haven't been able to tell you or contact you is because it is forbidden. The information I just told you is highly sensitive and any leakage of it in any way or form can cause a lot of damage. Yes, dying is an occupational hazard, but what we do ensures that you can live your lives normally. It's a choice I made to protect the greater good. Understand?"

Ellie takes a good look at her brother. The last time she had seen him, he had a lanky frame, barely any muscles, and no physical physique at all. Now though, his body has filled out. His shoulders are broader; she could see the muscles bulge under his T-shirt and as he moves his hand to scratch his neck, the muscles flex showing their true form. His eyes have a solemn look to them, almost like sadness. His actions are of an adult in the real world, not the brother she knew before this whole debacle. He surely had changed, but was it for the better? She needs to sit on it for the night. She quickly makes a retreat to her room, shutting the door behind her.

Chuck looks on as his sister makes a hasty retreat to her room. Turning to Devon, who has somewhat calmed down enough to close his mouth, he says, "So, what do you think?"

Taking his time, he blinks his eyes, registering the fact that his soon-to-be-brother-in-law is a spy, not a dumb loser who got kicked out of Stanford. He inhales a deep breath and lets out a deep, "Awesome."

Smirking, Chuck retorts, "That's what I thought. So, what do I do about Ellie? It seems like WWIII is about to rear its head."

"When she goes off like that, you should just give her space. Don't approach her until she makes the first move. She'll talk to you when she wants to. So, you got anywhere to stay tonight? We have a guest room you can use."

"Thanks for understanding Devon. This isn't how I wanted to let you guys know, on my first day back and just before Christmas. I'm so sorry. No, I don't. Thanks for the offer"

"No worries dude, I got your back. And don't worry about Christmas. I think having you home is a big enough Christmas present for Ellie. Anyways, the room is down the hall and to the right. Bathroom is just across the way. You have any clothes to sleep in? If not I can probably dig around and find your old clothes."

"It's okay Devon, I have my luggage. See you in the morning."

Watching Chuck slink to his room, he can't help but feel pity for him. The government expects him to do their dirty work at the consequence of his innocence. The lives he has to take always weighing on his conscience. He knew the once vibrant man before him, but now, he is a shell of himself, so somber and foreboding. The next morning, he will offer Chuck to stay with them, hoping to help break him from his gloomy mood. He hopes as they get to interact more, they will bring the once vibrant and happy man back to life.

***

**Fulcrum Warehouse (Interior)**

**Unknown Location**

**1:58 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

Reaching behind his back, he grasps the handle of his USP .45. Pulling it out, he also extends an arm to his ankles, reaches under his tactical pants, and withdraws a knife. Holding the knife by the hilt, blade pointing towards his pinky, he moves it into position, criss-crossing his wrists, right hand holding the pistol, left hand holding the knife. Extending his left hand, he tentatively reaches towards the doorknob, turning it slowly, and he finally turns it, pushing the door open, trying to catch any agents inside by surprise. His eyes scan the room before stopping on its final resting place. A pair of ocean blue orbs come to rest on his own sepia spheres, silently communicating on a deeper level only found in the deepest states of love. He walks towards her, resisting the urge to run to her and wrap her up in his arms.

On the other hand, Sarah wasn't surprised that he would try to help them, but with gun in hand? The Chuck Bartowski she knows shies away from guns and anything that shoots live ammunition. Peering into his eyes, she sees the darkness in them, the eyes of a man who has lost his innocence. The eyes that tell of a somber story that is full of darkness. She didn't know who is looking at her and she lets out a tentative, "Chuck?"

Gathering her up in his arms, he asks, "Are you okay Sarah?"

"Yeah, Chuck. I'm fine, although I don't think Casey is."

His arms feel good around her. She is astounded at the perfect fit, her body molding into his. His warmth spreads through her like a raging inferno, the heat so intense that it threatens to singe her skin.

Without letting her go, Chuck reaches into his pocket and fishes out his iPhone. Punching in a set of numbers, the dial tone rings and he simply says, "Send in the cleaners. Bring along an ambulance, we have an agent injured. Bring any technicians to be found. Have them extract all information on the computers inside the facility, do not miss a single inch. Understood?"

Sarah listens to the commanding voice of Chuck, wondering where it is coming from. She knows he is special, but who exactly is Chuck Bartowski? Taking a step back, she takes a good look at him, noticing the muscles in his biceps, T-shirt straining against them. Instead of the slouching posture she has become accustomed to seeing him in, his back is straight, almost militant in its stance. Her eyes bulge as she takes in the two submachine guns resting against his chest and the gigantic sniper rifle strapped across his back. She still cannot believe her eyes. He continues to speak into the phone and a million questions flit through her mind. A soft, "Sarah," breaks her out of her thoughts and she looks again into the eyes of one Chuck Bartowski. They had mellowed back to the chocolate brown she is so use to.

"Sarah, are you okay?" he asks again, eyes full of concern.

All she can do is nod her head in a silent yes and as she opens her mouth to ask a question, Chuck cuts her off.

"Questions can come later Sarah. We need to get Casey out of here."

When she nods in the affirmative, he hands Sarah the knife to cut the ropes so he can support Casey's tremendous body as he is still unconscious. Slicing through the rope, Casey's body falls limply into the hands of Chuck Bartowski. Wrapping one of Casey's arms around his neck, he gingerly moves Casey towards the exit, followed closely by Sarah, who notes the body count of fourteen dead men. The Chuck Bartowski she knows cannot kill a fly, let alone fourteen men. She stares at the back of the receding man, wondering who he is.

Walking outside, she sees Chuck helping to unload Casey's body onto a stretcher and into an ambulance. After speaking to the ambulance driver, Chuck walks back over to her.

"Come on, let's go. They are moving Casey to my sister's hospital. I want to be there when he wakes up. I need to make a quick stop at home as well."

She follows him out to the road and is surprised to see a sleek black motorcycle. Even more surprising is Chuck riding it. The Chuck she knows is scared when she hits ninety on her Porsche. What else does she not know about him?

"Come on Sarah, we don't have all day."

Shaking her head, as if shaking the cobwebs out, she scoots onto the backside of the motorcycle, wrapping her arms around his stomach, which surprisingly has abs. She shudders at the contact. Chuck turns around and cocks an eyebrow, before turning his attention back to the road. Luckily, he does not catch the blush rising quickly up her face.

He takes off in pursuit of the ambulance, following the trail of lights and the blaring of the sirens. He moves fast along the streets, darting in between cars, moving like a street devil, not sparing anything a second glance. Fear shows in his passenger, the speed simultaneously exhilarating, but also terrifying. She has never seen him like this, smile on his face as he moves erratically through traffic, only stopping for lights.

They stop at his house, unloading the weapons once again into the secret compartment in his closet. Her eyes grow wide as she takes in the numerous numbers of weapons in his closet. "How long has this been here?" she asks herself. Blinking her eyes, she finally notices him staring at her from the Morgan Door. She moves to join him and they once again take off into the night.

***

**Burbank, California**

**Westside Medical Center**

**2:30 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

When they reach the hospital, he hops off and jogs to the front entrance just in time to see Casey being loaded onto a gurney and moving deeper into the hospital. They move him into an ER and they begin surgery on him. Both sit in silence as they ruminate about what to say to one another.

An hour passes by before Casey is let out of surgery. They find a couple of broken ribs, a broken nose, nothing serious. They sigh in relief, taking in the information like ambrosia sent from the gods. They find Casey in room thirty-six. They both enter and things start to go down.

As Casey becomes lucid, Chuck sets up the teleconference in the room, connecting wires here and there. Casey awakens to the sight of Chuck Bartowski dressed in full tactical uniform, bullet lodged in his vest. All three turn to the screen as Brigadier General Beckman comes online.

"Good work, Agent Bartowski."

His handlers turn to him, surprise written all over their faces as they take in the shock of the words. His eyes do not stray from the screen, focusing on the debriefing. Both handlers share a confused look before turning back to the screen.

"The information gleaned from the computers is invaluable. The information shows of a shipment of plutonium arriving in two days on a port in Los Angeles. Man surveillance on the port and devise a plan of operation. All three of you will infiltrate, find the plutonium while taking out any Fulcrum agents. This is serious business folks, no screw ups. Understood?"

The three agents nod their heads, while each take in the information just given to them.

"Agents Walker and Casey, I need to speak to both of you in private. Agent Bartowski, will you please leave the room?"

Nodding his head, he steps out of the room, leaving Sarah and Casey with the image of Beckman on the screen.

She nods to them, allowing them to ask their questions.

Sarah began with the most obvious one, "Who is Chuck Bartowski?"

"Chuck Bartowski was an ex operative for the CIA. His files were wiped when he quit the Agency and returned to civilian life. This information is highly classified, way above both of your clearances. The only reason this is being shown to you is that this pertains to the Intersect Project."

"You both understand that Project Omaha was a recruitment project for the Human Intersect. Had Agent Bartowski not been kicked out of Stanford, he would have been the Intersect a long time ago. Shortly after his expulsion, the CIA was still interested in his work at Stanford. They approached him with the guise of a job opportunity. The fall at Stanford influenced his decision, and without thinking, he accepted."

The information shocks both agents into submission, neither making a movement. Taking their silence in, Beckman continues.

"Shortly after that meeting, he entered The Farm, finishing it in 3 months, a little longer than your time, am I correct Agent Walker? After leaving The Farm, Agent Bartowski was tasked with missions of high importance, assassinations most of the time. His favorite method of eliminating his targets is by sniping. He earned the codename, Scarlet Ibis. Nobody had ever seen a better agent. He went on missions for two years and they abruptly came to an end after his assassination of Egor Danil, a Russian terrorist. He left the CIA and flew back to Los Angeles to where he is now, living with his sister and her fiancée."

"His mission dossier and files will be sent to Castle where you two will be able to read through them. He was one of the best agents working for the Agency. His mission successes highly outnumber both of yours _combined_."

"I'm sure both of you have many questions for him so, I will leave it here for now. Devise an ops plan and have it sent to me ASAP."

The screen fades to black, and the agents exchange glances. Casey, sensing what Sarah wants to do, tells her, "Walker, find him. Ask him what you want. Go."

Nodding absently, she walks out into the lobby, finding Chuck sitting with head in his hands. His hands gently rub his forehead and she sits in the seat next to him. Without looking up, he reaches a hand over and grasps hers in his.

She gently bumps his shoulder, causing him to look up. His eyes are full of sadness, sadness that comes about from his return to the life of an agent.

Softly whispering, she murmurs, "Come on, let's get out of here."

***

**The Beach**

**Their Spot**

**4:03 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

They take his motorcycle to their spot on the beach. They stare into the horizon, neither making the first move. Chuck, tiring from the silence, speaks first.

"I'm sorry."

The words surprise her. Those are the words she is least expecting.

"For what?"

"For not letting you in on my secret. I didn't trust you and for that I'm sorry. It's just that, it's just that my life before the Buy More was a little erratic. Sure, I found it fun flying around the world, but when it came down to show time, the excitement kind of ebbed away, only leaving the tense silence of the release of a life. I am and still ashamed of what I've done. I've tried to push the spy life out of my life, but it seems to follow me wherever I go. At Stanford, the Intersect, and now here."

"I quit the Agency because the release of a life didn't sit well with me. It made me uncomfortable; the feeling of it left me raw. The last guy I assassinated had a family. I can't live knowing that I left his children without a father and the wife without a husband. Sure he was a terrorist, but what right does it give me to kill him? I just don't understand."

Listening to him, she can't help but feel the truth of his words. The spy world did follow his life. At Stanford, where he was going to be recruited, to the time where Bryce sent him the Intersect, and this moment here, where he had to immerse himself back into the life of a spy. He successfully lived a civilian life after the spy world just to be pulled right back in by his former best friend. She feels his speech tug at her heart strings, making her shed a single tear. She had never felt closer to Chuck in her life, and she had felt close to him before. Her hand grabs his hand in her crushing grasp as tears silently flow down both their cheeks, running down to their shirts, staining them with their salt.

Wiping away the tears, he continues again, "Before that though, there was a mission that led me down the landslide. Arnost Bednar was unfortunately the one to begin it."

***

**Prague, Czech Republic**

**Arnost Bednar's Home**

**6:00 PM**

**April 15, 2005**

Trees that reach toward the Heavens surround the home, obscuring it from view to the world. The green foliage, breathtaking as the light hits the brush, accentuating the green of the plants. It was one of the greater perks of the job, being able to see the sights of the world. Taking stock of the house, he walks up to the front entrance, hands the guards his invitation, and steps into the luxurious home. The house is painted in a light, burnt orange, in contrast with the burgundy of the furniture. Looking around, he sees all the paintings, some hanging from the walls, while others lean in a corner being admired by guests who walk by. The pool outback glistens in the sun's rays, sparkling brightly in the setting sun.

His cover, Ceslav Krasna, is attending a party hosted by terrorist leader, Arnost Bednar. Intel provided to him shows the workings of a bomb, headed by Arnost himself. He is there to glean any information and assassinate the terrorist leader.

As he mingles with the guest, he spots Arnost talking to two men dressed in black suits. He can see the guns in their shoulder holsters. As they move by him, he brushes his hand across their backs, planting bugs on each man. He walks out into the surrounding forest all the while taking out his phone and he prepares to listen to their conversation.

"Is the bomb ready?"

"Yeah, it's ready to be deployed."

Looking back into the house, he notes the disappearance of Arnost, just as the bomb goes off in the home. The house lets out a deep moan, as the bomb goes off inside its belly. The flaring light, white and burning, blasts into sky, lighting up the quickly darkening sky. The heat and energy released from the bomb is enough to knock him back a good twenty feet, searing his skin. A dull ringing erupts in his left ear, leaving him deaf in his left ear. He tentatively starts to crawl forward, trying to move into a standing position. As he reaches his feet, he stands up in time to see the house collapse on itself, burying any occupants still alive.

He spots a car leave the facility, and his instincts tell him it is Arnost himself. Without taking a second glance into the burning building, he runs into the surrounding forest, USP .45 in hand, following the car. Luckily, the road is winding, allowing him to run straight to the car. Looking down the sight of his pistol, he rapidly pulls the trigger twice, allowing two bullets to fly into the front tires of the car. The car makes a screeching turn, burying itself into an enormous tree trunk.

The two bodyguards hop out of the car, dragging their boss along. Laying him to the side, they take out their pistols, trying to spot the assailant. Little did they know, the silent assailant sat in the tree above them, waiting for them to walk underneath him. As they appear below him, he makes his descent, burying a knife into the throat of one man, while simultaneously kicking out with his left foot, striking the other man in the nose, a sickening crunch resonating into the forest.

Grasping the knife in the other man's throat, he turns around and lunges at the other man, slicing the arm protecting his head. He cries out in pain and falls backwards. The hunter becomes the prey as he looks on at the man, holding the knife, getting ready to end his life. He looks into his eyes, and he only sees the swirling ebony staring back at him. His last coherent thought is, "Goodbye, world."

Stalking his fallen prey, he lunges, slashing his prey's throat, blood gushing out of the wound and into the soil. He paints the ground red with blood, creating a canvas of blood, bone, tissue, and sinew. Turning around to the still incapacitated Arnost, he swiftly walks up to him, throws him over his shoulder, and walks into the surrounding forest, becoming a shadow, leaving nothing of its existence except the remnants of a burning car and two red abstract paintings.

***

**Prague, Czech Republic**

**Unknown Location**

**April 15, 2005**

**10:00 PM**

When Arnost comes to, he finds himself tied to a chair in a dark room. He looks around and as his eyes adjust to the darkness, he notes the man sitting across from him, in a chair unlike his. As the light comes on, he sees the face of his captor, an emotionless void, dark circles staring at him, analyzing him. He has to divert his eyes as he feels the two spheres burn into his skin, looking into his soul. The man looks like an avenging angel in his dark suit, gun in hand.

"Where did you get the parts for the bomb?"

Arnost chooses to stay silence, and the consequence of that is a gun shot to the foot. The pain erupts in his left foot, jarring his senses, as his brain tries to relieve the pain for his conscious body.

"I'll ask you again, where did you get the parts for the BOMB?"

Staying silent once again, his reward is another gunshot wound to the right foot this time. He screams out in pain, still refusing to divulge the information. His captor puts the gun muzzle to his right knee, pulling the trigger, pain spreading throughout his body like a wildfire feeding on dead brush.

"You got a lot of joints left. I can keep going all day."

The malice in the voice is poorly hidden, betraying the underlying emotion of hatred and disgust. Once again, the reward to his silence is another gunshot to his left kneecap. He shouts out in pain, words going to his god to stop this pain.

"You can make this all stop by giving me what I want."

He feels the gunshot rip into his shoulder, burying itself in the flesh. The blood trickles out of the wound, dyeing his shirt red with blood. Another bullet impacts his other shoulder, burying itself there as well. He cannot take it anymore and acquiesces to his captor's demands.

Telling him all he knows, a feeling of relief washes over him as no other gun shots come. Little does he know though, there is one more objective for the Agent.

"Oh Arnost, I forgot something. Say goodbye."

A piercing gunshot reverberates in the room, the receiver of the bullet lying dead on the floor with a third eye. The chair tips over, its lone occupant still sitting in its contours, not moving and lifeless. The blood paints the floor red, creating a deep red canvas one cannot describe in words. The other man stands up, adjusting his suit, and makes his exit. As he steps outside, he falls to his knees, heaving the contents of his stomach into the cold forest floor. He retches until all the contents of his gut gone, hands held the whole time at the pain in his stomach.

He walks out of the forest and into the dark of the night sky. The clouds obscure the moon, not allowing the rays of the moon to fall onto the lone occupant of the parking lot. Ripping his eyes from the sky, he continues to move towards his car, thoughts flittering through his mind like fireflies. Thoughts like, "What have I done?" and thoughts like, "What have I become?" rings clearly in his mind.

_A/N: Any and all mistakes are mine. Nano 09 in a couple weeks folks, hope to see you there! Look for another chapter on Wednesday/Thursday._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck, maybe the OC characters, but not Chuck. If I did, Chuck would be airing in a month, not in March. It isn't though, so I don't own Chuck._

_A/N: This is for you CHARAH shippers out there. Sort of fluffy, while moving the plot along. The first scene is quite…mature, so if you're under age, don't read. Skip to the middle somewhere, and begin there. The beginning is not important… well it is, in a way if you love CHARAH. Anyways, I'm babbling. I present to you Chapter 3. Enjoy!_

**Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis**

**Chapter 3**

**The Beach**

**Their Spot**

**4:33 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

His story tapers off, ending with a light whisper, so soft that her ears have to strain to hear it. His eyes turn to the lightening horizon, searching for the rising sun, unshed tears shining in his eyes. They sit in silence, a comfortable silence, neither one wanting to break it. His arms find a way around her shoulder and she does not admonish his actions. She can feel his need for human contact, the story he just told taking a lot of his will power to tell. She can tell that the story brings back bad memories, the ones that leave you shivering and sweating at night.

She burrows closer into his embrace, and she feels his arm tighten around her. She is still astounded at the perfect fit, her body adjusting to his lanky frame. She looks up, finding his chocolate brown eyes staring back at her own ocean blue orbs. She leans into the kiss, meeting him halfway. His lips feel good on hers as she feels his probing tongue on her own. She acquiesces to his demand, allowing him entrance. His tongue moves against hers, in a battle where there is no loser. His taste is still the same, cinnamon and chocolate, so delectable, like an ambrosia. They explore each other's mouths with their own, getting use to the contours of the other.

Her hands find their way up to his hair, grabbing purchase, anchoring her to him. She feels his arms splayed at her back, molding her body to his. They break away for a brief second, sucking in enough air for a repeat. The second kiss is shorter, but it still has the same effect on each. They break away from each other, neither allowing it go any farther. The only reason that finds its way to their minds is that they are on a public beach where they can easily be seen. He quickly stands up, pulling her along, and they run to his black motorcycle.

***

**Los Angeles, California**

**Sarah's Hotel**

**4:55 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

Making it to her hotel in record time, they find themselves in the hall, kissing frantically as they stumble along to her room. He backs her up into the cold, hard wood of the door, his tongue plundering her mouth with its aggressiveness. The door swings open, both occupants falling onto the carpeted floor. Chuck breaks away from her mouth, reaching behind him to close the door.

Turning around again, he finds Sarah already trying to take her shirt off. He smiles at the sight and takes off his own. She is stunned at his toned body, abs showing a flat stomach. A blush rises to her face, turning it a deep shade of red. He picks her off the floor and lays her on the bed, simultaneously leaning into the kiss.

Instead of the aggressiveness that laced the kisses in the hallways, the kisses he gives now are gentle and caring. His lips meander down to her pulse point, nose following the hot trail of kisses. She moans as he makes his way over to her pulse point, hovering there for a few seconds. He makes his way down her neck, over the swells of her breast, across the plateau that is her abdomen and down to her jeans. He looks at her and she nods, giving him permission.

He unbuttons them, and slowly slides them off her as his mouth and tongue follow the waistband of the departing jeans. When he reaches her panties, he simply loops his fingers around those, pulling them down as his mouth and tongue continue to meander their way down her body. As her panties slide off, he exclaims, "You're so beautiful, Sarah."

A blush finds its way to her face. She is surprised to see that those words affect her. She had been called beautiful many times before, but this time, it feels different. Maybe it is because of the person saying it and how he is saying it, with passion and conviction. She gasps as his tongue finds its way inside her folds. She lets out loud moans as his probing tongue skillfully maneuvers its way around her hot spot.

Moaning, she says, "Chuck, I want you, NOW!"

"Condom?"

"Nightstand, second drawer."

He gives here a look of amusement, and she retorts, "Hey, one should always be prepared."

"Right."

He obliges, pulling his pants and boxers off, leaving him naked. Slipping on the condom, he climbs atop her, eyes shining, hints of love scattered around his eyes. He goes down on her, putting his lips on hers as he slides inside her. She gasps at how deep he goes, her insides squirming at the contact. She lets out a loud moan as he thrusts again and again into her awaiting body.

The feeling he gets when he slips inside her is amazing. He can feel her walls convulse with pleasure as he continues his thrusting, her moans and gasps music to his ears.

She teeters on the edge of ecstasy, knowing the next thrust will do her in. As she feels him pull out, she is ready in expectation of the next thrust. The next thrust sends heat running through her body, her back arching in pleasure, simultaneously screaming his name. She had never felt this way before, the love so palpable emanating from his actions.

Seeing her face in the midst of her orgasm, he feels himself losing it. He lets loose, allowing his body to take its course. The pleasure spreads through his body like a wildfire, giving satisfaction to every inch of his body.

He collapses to her side, smile adorning his face. They turn to one another, each trying to catch their breath enough to speak.

"Whoa," Sarah, speaking first, having caught her breath.

"Haven't done that in a while," Chuck chuckles, knowing that both of them have not had any physical release since the beginning of the assignment.

"Yeah."

"Ready for round two?"

Chuckling at the statement she simply states, "Definitely."

They find themselves once again, lips locking together in an embrace, neither letting go. They spend the time exploring each other, discovering the person beneath, souls connecting on a level never seen before. They both discover the love that they hold in their hearts for one another. It seeps out as they continue their physical dance. It wasn't just sex, it was lovemaking.

At the end of their lovemaking, he falls asleep, smile on his face as he takes in the beauty of Sarah Walker. Scarlet Ibis can kill, but Chuck Bartowski can love. He drifts into a deep slumber, having dreams of the wonderful blonde goddess that he loves so much.

She watches him fall asleep with the goofy grin she loves so much. The smile that melts her heart and turns it into mush. She falls asleep with her head on the nook between his neck and his shoulder, right arm slung across his chest. Her head bobs up and down at the slow rhythmic pace of his heaving chest. Her eyes drift shut as her ears register the lulling beats of his heart, sending her into a euphoria of dreams of a brown eyed nerd who saves the world on a daily basis. She falls asleep happy, for the first time since the beginning of the assignment.

***

**Los Angeles, California**

**Sarah's Hotel**

**11:00 AM**

**February 01, 2008**

She awakens only to find the other side of the bed empty. She opens her eyes and uses her hands to wipe them, trying to find the curly haired nerd turned Agent she loves so much. She spots him in the kitchen in his boxers sans shirt, brewing some coffee, and humming a song to himself. She smiles at the sight of him, the sweet smile she always loves, decorating his face. She sits up, swinging her legs over the bed, and stalks into the bathroom to compose her self.

Chuck watches her sit up and walk into the bathroom, a smile alighting her face. He sits on the couch, waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. He sips his coffee, his thoughts flittering to the memories of last night, the special night they shared flooding his brain. He sighs in content, as he sees Sarah walk in, clad in only boy shorts and one of his T-shirts she snatched from his room.

"Casey called, we have a briefing at 4."

She nods absently at the words, choosing to sit down on his lap, and he slips his arms around her. She leans back into his embrace and she lets out a sound of content, happy to be where she is. They sit like that for another 15 minute, happy to be in the embrace of the other. The silence comfortable, neither wanting to break it. Chuck has a question in his mind, and he decides to voice it.

"About last night…" Chuck begins.

Sarah cuts him off, and addresses the unspoken question, "Chuck, I will refuse to believe last night is a mistake. Just give me time. Emotions aren't my strong point. I've gone a long time without anybody, living in solitude, give me time to adjust to someone who actually gives a damn about me."

Chuck can only nod, giving her a soft kiss on the temple. He relaxes once again, enjoying the contact of their bodies. His stomach lets loose a loud growl, starvation striking him, the last meal he had being frozen yogurt for lunch. She looks over her head and smiles, "You hungry?"

"Only like a caged lion, honey," Chuck deadpans.

"Come on, let's go out."

"Chinese?"

"Definitely."

***

**Chinatown, Los Angeles, California**

**Bamboo Dragon**

**12:03 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

"Isn't this the place Morgan showed to us that one night?"

"Umm, yeah, we never actually got to eat here, remember?" he answers with a question of his own.

"Yeah, I remember. This is also the place where you flashed on the rogue Chinese agent. Mei Ling, right?"

"Yeah. For an agent, you sure have a bad memory," he teases, while Sarah swats his arm.

He puts his arms around her shoulder, as they move to their table, she says, "Watch it bub, I still know over a hundred ways to kill you."

Raising his hands in surrender, he says, "I have no doubt that you do."

He sits down, and leans over to her, whispering in her ear, "But so do I Sarah, so do I."

She shudders at the voice next to her ear, husky and raw with emotion. She looks at his face, a dazzling smile affixed to his, and a blush rises to her face, and a smile that equals his makes its appearance.

"Well, you'll have to show me some time later," the innuendo is blatant in the way Sarah states it, transforming the sincere smile into a predatory one.

His smile drops, face turning down right predatory, and she finds herself blushing again.

"Well Sarah, the next time we're at your hotel, I'll show you," he says, a sly smile returning to his face.

Forty minutes later, minus thirty-four dollars, plus two full stomachs, they make their way out of the restaurant, hand in hand. They hop into her Porsche, his Yamaha R1 still at her hotel.

"Hey, Sarah, since it looks like we'll be living together in the near future, how about we make a deal?" a sly smile hinting on his face.

She opens her mouth in delight that they will be moving in together in the near future. She always wanted to live with Chuck, and it seems like dream is slowly becoming a reality. Although, her eyes narrow at the implications of a deal, "What kind of deal?"

"You get to ride my motorcycle and I get to drive your Porsche, it's only fair."

She always liked motorcycles, and Chuck's is no exception. She contemplates the notion, his motorcycle for her Porsche.

"Since I'm already driving your Porsche…"

Her head shoots right up and notices that she's in the passenger seat while he is driving her car, weaving in and out of traffic at ninety miles per hour. She stares at him, mouth open in surprise, as she takes in the scene before her. She is in the passenger seat, while he is in the driver's seat, handling her car with ease. She has never let anyone drive her car, and this is new, sitting in the passenger seat while he drove.

He notices her staring at his hand clutching the stick and he appeases her by saying, "Sarah, don't worry. I know how to drive stick shift, I own a couple Mustangs and sports cars, so calm down."

She turns her head at the word, "own," shock in her face at the implications.

"Wait, you own a couple of Mustangs and sports cars?"

"Umm, yeah, they're sitting in garages all over the states. I think I have a yellow Mustang here in L.A."

Her eyes widen as she hears he has a Mustang here in L.A., "Can we, umm, go get your Mustang?" her smile, shy and persuasive.

"Sure, you want to drive it home?"

Her eyes shine as he says _home_, her mind instantly shifting into overdrive, as flashes of a house, with a white picket fence with children playing on the front lawn it encloses as she watches from the window, the arm of her curly haired, brown eyed husband around her shoulder.

***

**Los Angeles, California**

**Chuck's Car Garage**

**1:05 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

"Sarah."

Her name breaks her from her thoughts of children, a house, a dog, and a brown eyed nerd, and she turns to look into his deep chocolate eyes.

"What's up?"

"We're here," he simply states, eyes alighting at the excitement he sees in her face.

They step out of the car and walk up to the help desk. She notices the man at the desk staring at her, so she latches onto his arm, showing that she was taken. He takes a side glance at her, and smiles, thinking, 'This is real.'

They walk up to the door and he inserts the key, pulling up the garage door. A black sheet covers the car, and he promptly pulls it off to reveal a shining yellow Mustang. The yellow is dazzling, the one that turn heads as you drive by. It's a real bright yellow, like the sun, not like the neon green yellow you cringe in disgust at. The car is still as he remembers, perfect in all its glory. His minds drift back to what he had to do to get the car.

"What's the story behind this car, Chuck?"

"You sure you want to hear another one of my stories? I just don't want you to fall asleep on me."

She tries to hit his arm, but he dodges quickly and runs behind her, winding his arms around her, grabbing her waist with his hands.

"I just want to know about your past."

"Do I get to know about yours?"

She gives him a look, and he senses the underlying "no" in her eyes.

"If not, why should I share one of my stories?"

"Because you're my boyfriend."

That one word puts a smile on his face. He is happy to be called her very _real_ boyfriend.

"Alright, alright, I'll tell you just because you're my girlfriend. Take a seat in the back, I'll join you in a second."

The word girlfriend puts a smile on her face, she is more than happy to be the girlfriend to a very special man, who became even more special after the revelations of yester night. She reclines in the back seat and he sits down next to her. He holds her hand in his, both reveling in the pleasure of contact with the other.

"Alright, here we go Sarah."

His thoughts drift back to the time he obtained the car, a mission here in the states, to stop a bombing attempt, and to assassinate Colombian terrorist, Andres Mauricio.

***

**Los Angeles, California**

**Museum of Fine Arts**

**7:00 PM**

**May 19, 2005**

He hasn't had a mission in the states in a while, let alone the very city he came from. He looks up his sister in the phonebook, but decides it will be best if he stays out of her way until he is gone and away from the Agency. Until then, he will continue to play their pawn, working the missions. He opts to stay at a hotel in the city, the Maison23, room 832, deciding that being inside the city will give him much better access.

He approaches the museum, dressed in his tux, drawing the stares of several women, who look much, much older than he is. He hands over his invitation and scans the room and spots his target, Andres Mauricio, talking to the head of the Museum, Michelle Conway. The museum is hosting a party for the donations they had just received. The donations were being used to buy new artifacts to display in the museum. Looking around, he sees many artifacts, some dating back to the ancient Egyptians. He wasn't hear to admire the museum though. Intel provided to him tells him that there is a bomb on the premise and his mission is to stop it, and kill Andres, while extracting any information he can.

He mingles with the other guest, flirting here and there before approaching his target.

Reaching his hand out, he introduces himself, "Charles Carmichael."

"Andres Mauricio," he states, taking Ibis' hand in his.

Little does he know that Ibis already knows that tiny bit of information, he knows a lot of things about the man actually.

"So, what brings you here to the museum, Mr. Mauricio?"

"Andres, Mr. Carmichael, Andres. As to why I'm here, I was invited by an old friend who works here," he answers, waving his hand at Ms. Conway.

"I also donated quite a bit of money to this event."

Without Mauricio knowing, Chuck slips a bug onto his wristwatch, all the while listening for any important information on the bomb.

"Yes, this place is worth every penny donated to this organization. I find it very interesting how such old things exist into the modern day world."

As soon as he says that, he sees two men in suits stalk off down a corridor, which from schematics, tells him that they are moving towards the basement.

He excuses himself, and slips into the crowd, following the men in black. He spots them walk into the basement, descending the stairs quickly. He follows them, keeping his distance, but just enough to overhear what they are saying.

"Is it ready?"

"The countdown is set for 5 minutes when everyone is listening to the speeches."

"Get Mauricio out of here now."

He slides behind an old cabinet, full of mothballs and cobwebs, having to stifle a sneeze, and watches one man leave the room, while the other fiddles with the bomb. He watches the man set the timer, setting it to explode in five minutes. He watches the man's movements, remembering them and stowing them in his brain for later use.

As the man walks by, he places a GPS bug on his back, so he can track the man down after he defuses the bomb. The man leaves, leaving Chuck alone with the bomb counting down from five minutes. It has already run its way down to four minutes thirty seconds.

Quickly moving to the bomb, he unscrews the panel, revealing a jumbling of green, blue, and red wires.

Recalling the brief movements of the man who armed the bomb, he is able to narrow it down to two red wires. He recalls his electrical engineering skills and snips the one closest to the timer. The timer stops, thirty-four seconds left on the clock.

He fishes in his pocket and calls in the cleaners to remove the bomb. He sighs in relief, and fiddles with his phone to reveal the location of the GPS bug he planted on the man earlier.

***

**Los Angeles, California**

**Maison23 Hotel**

**9:38 PM**

**May 19, 2005**

Tracking the GPS signal down, he finds himself at his own hotel, watching the men get out of the yellow Ford Mustang GT. He admires their taste of cars, but shoves it to the back of his mind, he had important fish to fry. As the men disappear inside the hotel, he walks out of his hiding place and walks into the dim lights of the airy hotel lobby.

He watches the men get into the elevator shaft, pressing the button for the seventh floor. He quickly moves to the stairs, instead of waiting for the elevator, and makes his ascent. He looks out of the stairway door, watching the men enter a room. He quickly moves out of the stairwell, and heads towards the room they currently occupy.

He knocks on the door, a suppressed USP .45 in hand, at the ready. As soon as the door opens, he shoots the first man in the forehead, causing him to fall straight back. He looks into the room and closes the door quickly, spotting the other man reaching for his weapon.

Quick as lightning, he looks down the iron sights and points the weapon at the other man's head. He pulls the trigger, allowing the cold steel projectile to eject from the chamber and strike the man in the middle of his forehead, knocking him backwards off his chair, slumping to the floor. He sees Mauricio try to make a mad dash to the balcony, but to no avail, he earns a gunshot to the foot before he can yell out into the night air.

Quickly, Ibis moves to him, picking him up like a sack of potatoes, and puts him in a chair, binding his legs and arms to the chair. Mauricio watches in awe as he watches the man move around the room, scanning for any information. He looks totally dangerous in his suit, gun in hand, almost James Bond like, except this is real life. Ibis stops at a particular file, documents showing the parts of the bomb, who made it, who the parts came from, and more pertinent information pertaining to the group behind the attempted attack.

A feeling of relief washes over him as he takes in the fact that he does not have to torture the information out of his prisoner, but the feeling is fleeting. He remembers his other mission objective and looks at the gun in hand. He inwardly is disgusted at his next actions, but it is an order he has not follow through on.

He points it towards the head of the already bleeding Mauricio, pulling the trigger. He watches as the man falls backwards, taking his chair along with him, legs held high. The blood trickles down the side of his head, and it stops at the carpet, dyeing it a blinding red. The third eye in his head, black as night, blood oozing out of it, causes him to turn his head away. He reaches into his pocket and signals for the cleaners to take care of his mess in the hotel room.

He exits the hotel room just in time to see two CIA cleaners clad in bell boy uniforms, run by him, and run into the room to take care of the three dead men. He walks out into the cool night air, the air helping him to steel his nerves. He fiddles with the keys in his pocket, turning them and rolling them in his hand, this way and that. He walks up to the yellow Ford Mustang GT, clicking the button. A beep is sounded out, signaling that the doors are unlocked.

He slips into the cool seat of the driver's side. He grips onto the clutch, the leather feeling giving him fond memories of college, driving an old Thunderbird. He places the keys into the ignition, delighted at the sound of the engine revving up. He speeds into the night, tail lights flickering as he slows down to move in front of slower drivers. He swerves in and out of traffic, moving towards his ultimate destination. The feeling of driving the car wipes away the memories of the killing, giving him his release from those frightful thoughts.

He stops in front of the car garage, hitting a button on his keys to open up the garage. He pulls his car into it, lamenting the fact that he won't be able to see it again until he is back in L.A. He hails down a cab to take him down back to his hotel, to his awaiting Suzuki GSX-R1000 motorcycle. He arrives at his hotel, immediately hopping onto his bike. He turns it on, the engine roaring to life. He holds it idle as he takes out his phone.

"Graham, secure."

"Ibis, secure. Mission accomplished. Bomb stopped, Mauricio dead. Returning to the nest."

"Good work, Agent."

He hangs up the phone, slipping it back into his pocket.

He rides into the night, the only thing seen in the distance is the red of his tail lights.

*******

**Los Angeles, California**

**Chuck's Car Garage**

**2:00 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

She stares at amazement at what he went through to get this car.

"So, if I heard you correctly, you defused a bomb, killed 3 terrorist, before obtaining this machine?"

"Yup."

"You idiot!"

"What, you were delighted with the car before. What's wrong now?"

"You could have died, I wouldn't have….I wouldn't have met you. Now that I've found you, I don't know what I would do if I lost you."

"Oh my dear Sarah, you don't have to worry about me. I know what I'm doing. As long as I have you at my side, I'll be alright. We'll face heaven itself if it comes to it. Believe me Sarah, I love you, and will always try my best to make it back to you. I promise with my heart."

The words reassure her and she snuggles closer into his embrace. She feeds on his warmth and she begins to doze off, only awakened by Chuck, who softly whispers, "Sarah, time to get back. I feel like showing you some of my moves now."

The smile he has on perks her right up and she slips into the front seat of the car while saying, "Race you back to the hotel room?"

"Sure thing, babe," he says hopping out of the car as the yellow Mustang flies by him. He runs to her Porsche, engine roaring to life, and he accelerates to catch up with the Porsche. Unfortunately, she had too much of a head start, and he found himself self there long after she had come in.

*******

**Los Angeles, California**

**Sarah's Hotel**

**2:13 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

"I win!" she giggles in delight, he smiles at the beautiful chiming of her voice.

"Well, you had a head start, so not fair," he retorts, face turning into a mock pout.

"Then why'd you accept the challenge huh? Answer that Mister."

He raises his hand in surrender and slides an arm across her back. He simply whispers in her ear, "Because I love you too much to not deny you anything."

Her eyes shine at the implement as they shuffle into the hotel lobby. The people in the lobby turn their heads to watch the happy couple stumble their way to the elevator, holding on to each other like the end of the world is coming. A light buzz surrounds the room as the onlookers begin their conversations again.

They walk inside the elevator, hitting the button for the eighth floor. Chuck leans back against the cool metal of the elevator car, only to be surprised as Sarah pounces, her mouth on his. Her probing tongue finds itself licking his own lips, and he opens his mouth, giving her access to duel with his own. The kiss is not rushed like the one on the docks that arose from their imminent death, or the one filled with sadness at the beach. This kiss is a kiss between lovers, unspoken words transferring from the lips of one to the other. Unspoken promises of love and care exchanged between the two.

The ding of the elevator car does not stop the kissing, but the staring does. They break away for air, simultaneously smiling sheepishly and apologizing to the people entering the elevator. Her face is flushed, while his eyes dance with amusement at her embarrassment.

She softly whispers into his ear, "Get that smile off your face, or you're cut off."

The smile instantly fades away, and she laughs at him.

"I was joking babe, I love you too much to cut you off, besides, your bedroom manners are GREAT!"

"Oh thank God, I thought I was going to have to use the Bartowski Eyebrow Dance and air guns!"

She laughs at him, and punches him in the arm. He smiles and the elevator door opens, the dinging breaking them from their staring match. He walks out of the elevator shaft, pulling Sarah with him and pushes her into the wall, taking her lips in his. This time, his tongue slips out to seek entrance to her mouth. She acquiesces, and their tongues dance a dance only known between them. They move vicariously along the walls, gripping the tables in the hall, leaning into walls as they make their way to her room. This time around, it is him pressed against the wooden door, her mouth on his as she fumbles with her keys to open the door.

Once again, they fall inside the room, only this time, Chuck lands first, pulling Sarah along with him, lips still in full contact as Sarah reaches behind her to close the door. They continue to kiss, but each sense another being in the room. They break away, breathing hard, each scanning the room for any signs of danger. They find a man, sitting on the couch, mouth open, eyes widening at the scene before him. His icy blue eyes dilate in shock of the things he just saw.

"Oh my god, Bryce."

_A/N: Sorry to leave you guys like that. This was slightly rushed as I have so much school work swamping me at the moment. Balancing AP World History, AP Biology and Honors Pre-Calc kind of sucks. Correction, it does suck. So anyways, hope you enjoyed Chapter 3. R&R and look for another installment Saturday/Sunday...ish._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own Chuck._

_A/N: Got this out quick since I finished the exams, with flying colors I might add. Have fun reading Chapter 4.  
_

**Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis**

**Chapter 4**

**Los Angeles, California**

**Sarah's Hotel**

**2:22 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

"Oh my god, Bryce."

"Hi Sarah," he replies.

Chuck and Sarah unlatch from each other, both standing to their full heights, Chuck a full head taller than Bryce, and Sarah shorter than Bryce by a mere one inch. Her hand grabs his, giving him a reassuring squeeze before letting go of his hand, and begins her questioning of Bryce's reappearance.

"What are you doing here Bryce? I thought you were in deep cover? Aren't you supposed to be taking down Fulcrum in some seedy country?" questions fly out of her mouth, trying to decipher his reason for being here.

"I was called by Graham to get out here as soon as I could, he didn't let me in on any other information."

Sarah smiles as she hears him say that he doesn't know anything, not even that Chuck is an Agent. 'This could be fun,' she thinks.

Turning towards Chuck, she whispers in his ear, "Chuck, go home and get changed. I'll meet you at your house at three. Let me have some fun with Bryce."

"Wait, what? Fun Sarah? I thought we were together!?"

"No silly, have fun messing around with his head. Trust me Chuck, the only one I want to have that kind of fun with is you," she whispers seductively, smiling as his face turns a beet red.

"I love you, I just want you to know that," he whispers, conviction in his voice.

Her eyes tear up, but she refuses to let them fall, trying to keep her composure for the upcoming barbing of Bryce. In contrast, her heart soars into the clouds, never wanting to touch the ground again. Her mind flashes once again to the house and white picket fence.

She sighs and whispers back, "I love you, too. Now get out of here so I can have my fun toying with his head."

The words stop his heart, encasing the moment in his mind forever. He'll remember this day clearly until he is in his old age, hopefully, with Sarah by his side. She clears her throat, signaling he should leave.

As Chuck walks to the door, his voice sounds into the room, head still turned away, "Bryce, you're lucky to be where you are. Be grateful. Don't be late for the briefing, 4:00 PM sharp.

He stalks off, both agents staring at his departing back trying to decipher the meaning behind his words.

Returning to the matter at hand, "So Sarah, what was that I just saw?" Bryce says, voice monotone.

"Bryce I can explain"

"How do you explain falling on top of your asset, mouth glued together in a deep lip lock? Explain that to me." He says sharply, dropping the monotone voice.

"Look Bryce, we did it to keep our cover. You have to understand, people have to begin taking us seriously. We can't just walk in here not hand in hand or lips on each other, it would look suspicious." she lies, hoping he takes the bait.

He pours over her words, torn between wanting to believe her and not trusting her words. He stays silent and Sarah presses on, "Bryce, trust me, there is nothing going on between me and Chuck. Now I'm going to go take a shower and if you want to join me, you'll be quick about it."

As she walks off, she reaches into her nightstand, pulling out a pair of furry pink handcuffs, doing it so that Bryce can see. She walks into the bathroom while taking her pants off, leaving her just in her panties, swinging the handcuffs in her hand. The scene looks so hot, Bryce immediately forgets what he is thinking about and moves to quickly follow her.

Once in the bathroom, he finds her sans shirt and pants, and walks swiftly behind her, chest flushed against her back. She turns around in his arms, and pushes him back against the wall, slipping the handcuffs onto one of his hands. She pushes him into the shower, and presses her body against his, simultaneously slipping the handcuffs over the handle of the shower door. H doesn't notice it, the feeling of Sarah's body on his, drowning out any other feeling. She steps back, and admires her handiwork.

His eyes grow wide as he finds himself handcuffed to the shower door, nothing lying around to help him escape the tile prison.

"Sarah, what are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing? Leaving you here to go find Chuck, of course. You sir, are a self-righteous, egotistical bastard, who has the audacity to play god with your former best friend's life. What makes you think he couldn't have handled the life of a spy? The reason Chuck Bartowski is a good person doesn't cut it. Because of that good person, he has been able to do missions and save millions of lives. I don't know what you were thinking in college, but it seems like Chuck was meant for this life. So Bryce, bug off and leave us alone."

Before leaving, she turns around and cocks her right hand back, letting loose a solid punch to his jaw line. His head snaps to the left and stays there for a couple seconds, taking in the impact of her fist. Blood trickles down the side of his mouth and onto the floor, smearing it red. He lets loose a fit of coughing which spews even more blood onto the tiles of the shower. She turns around and walks out of the bathroom, a satisfied smile playing on her mouth. Her thoughts go, 'That felt pretty damn good.'

***

Stuck there with nothing to do, he makes one last ditch effort to try to make Sarah his again. He pulls out his phone, punches in a couple numbers, listening to the dial tone. The phone prompts him for an extension, and he speaks the extension number, connecting him to his boss.

"Graham, secure."

"Larkin, secure. Agent Walker has been compromised. Her objectivity towards the asset has been affected."

"Agent Larkin, we've known that for a while, but it's not important. Chuck Bartowski's asset role has been changed. He's being considered an Agent, partnered to both Agent Walker and Agent Casey. Technically, it's not an asset/handler relationship."

"When did this happen? Why wasn't I notified of his change of status?" panic striking his voice, trying to think of a way to change Chuck's status back to an asset.

"You were going to get all the information at the briefing, but now you know Chuck Bartowski is an agent, and you are the factor that pushed him towards it."

He holds his phone a long while after the dial tone had sounded. His mind runs through what he has just heard. How is he the factor that pushes Chuck to becoming an agent? How is he even able to be an agent? The Chuck Bartowski he knows can't hurt a fly.

"What's going on?" he asks the walls of the empty shower.

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**2:49 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

She pulls into the parking lot of Chuck's apartment, surprised to see another bike next to his Yamaha R1, a dazzling blue Suzuki GSX-R1000 that glimmers in the sun. She remembers the story he told her this afternoon, and her eyes register that it is the same bike from his mission in L.A. She can't wait to wrap her arms around Chuck's stomach again and ride into the horizon. She shudders at the thoughts of feeling Chuck's abs again.

She finds herself in front of his door, and she lightly knocks. The door opens a couple seconds later, showing a pretty hot looking Chuck.

He's wearing a black T-shirt that highlights his abs, and a pair of grey skinny jeans, pairing with his classic Chuck Taylors, low cut in-style. He's wearing a blue Dodger's cap, hiding most of his curly hair, but strands of it stick out here and there. The clothes show off his toned body, her mind clouding with lustful thoughts. She audibly gulps and to her chagrin, he smiles in amusement, his eyes dancing with mirth.

"What's so funny Mister?"

"Nothing, nothing. Well, it's kind of funny watching you watch me in these clothes. Not what you expected, huh?"

"Yeah….you look really, really, really…ummm…hot," she manages to get out, but not before a squeak is let out on the last word.

He chuckles and wraps her in his arms, pressing a soft, but short kiss to her forehead, and she sighs in content.

"So, what did you do to Bryce?"

"Oh, I handcuffed him to the shower, shouted at him for a bit, and hit him in the face. That pretty much sums it up. It feels surprisingly good to hit that bastard Bryce Larkin."

"So, you pulled a Carina, just not on the bed, but in the shower?" he teases, a smile playing on his face.

"Are you referring to the time where Carina handcuffed Casey to her hotel bed? If you are, I still have a picture of it on my iPhone."

"Really? I have to see this! Carina told me after the debriefing. I had quite a laugh, the great agent John Casey, loses it to the feminine wiles of a very beautiful female agent."

She shoots him a look at the words "very beautiful," which tells him to remedy the situation or else.

"Sarah, you're the most beautiful woman in the world. I love you, no I'm _in love with you_. Sure, Carina is beautiful, but what female agent isn't. You're beautiful, but there is more to you than meets the eye Sarah Walker, and that is why I truly and ardently love you."

Her eyes tear up and she looks at him in wonderment. He always seems to find the right words to comfort her. His sincere brown eyes stare back at her own sapphire spheres, strong emotions alight in his eyes. His mouth tilts upwards in a smile, and she returns it, snuggling closer into the warmth of his arms. Her arms wind its way around his waist, and he pulls her into the living room.

He sits them on the couch, lying back so Sarah is on top of him, her head lying on his heaving chest. She presses her ears to his heart, listening to his steady heart beat. She looks up, leans into his face, snagging his lips in hers. He responds with fervor, tongue darting out of his mouth to tangle with hers.

They roll over, falling off the couch and onto the carpeted floor, Chuck now on top of Sarah, going down on her like no tomorrow. He mixes in quick pecks, with long drawn out kisses, their tongues gently dancing together in passion. The door opens, revealing a slightly shocked Ellie looking at her brother and his girlfriend making out on the floor of the living room like there is no tomorrow.

They notice the door swing open, but they continue their forbidden dance, until a slight "Eh hem," breaks them from their passionate make out session. They both turn to see Ellie, an amusing smile playing on her face. They both blush a deep red, smiling sheepishly as they stand up, fixing their clothes and hair. They sit themselves back down on the couch, trying to catch their breath enough to talk.

Chuck catches his breath first, "Sorry, Ellie. Forgot we were in a public area of the apartment," he says sheepishly, a coy smile finding its way to his face.

Sarah can only nod at the statement, too embarrassed to speak. Her face is still red, much to the amusement of the Bartowski brother and sister. They part ways with Ellie, and with a gentle arm at her back, they move to his room and sit down on the edge of his bed. One of Chuck's statements back at her hotel when Bryce was there finds its way to the front of her mind. She decides to voice her question.

"Chuck, what did you mean when you said Bryce was lucky to be where he is? I know you know that I wasn't going to have sex with him, but what did you mean? Answer me honestly, please babe? Please?" she pleads, putting on her puppy dog face, eyes going wide and lower lip pointing outward.

"Sarah, you don't have to give me the puppy dog look, I'll tell you what you want to know about me. We share a life now; you and I are together forever. Parts of the whole we make."

The words fly straight to her heart, momentarily stopping it, but it quickly starts again, her pulse, moving faster at his words. She looks in his eyes, and she can tell he really means it. They are really two parts of the whole. They are two people in love, and if one of them is not around, the other feels down, missing the other person.

"Well, are you going to start or do I have to make you?" she says, finally coming down from the high that his earlier words elicit.

"I'm afraid to see how you're going to make me, so I'll start now," a smile finding its way to his face.

"Well, it was a mission in Munich, Germany."

***

**Munich, Germany**

**Terrorist Warehouse**

**8:00 PM**

**June 16, 2005**

"God damn it, I'm supposed to be on vacation," he curses into the night sky, before moving towards his destination, moving silently like a ghost.

Graham tasked him with a mission right before he had asked for vacation, and he couldn't say no to the mission when he heard the details. His mission was to save Bryce Larkin, CIA agent extraordinaire, the asshole who had gotten him kicked out of Stanford two years ago.

Even though he still held hatred in his heart for him, he couldn't pass up on helping his old friend out of a sticky situation. That thought brings out many memories from Stanford of them running around, getting in trouble with the cops and professors on campus. A smile finds its way to his face at the memories, but he quickly schools his emotions and the smile returns to a tightlipped slit.

Moving silently onto the hill, he takes out his L96A1 sniper rifle, suppressor attached to deafen the flight of the steel projectile. He looks through the scope, painted green with night vision equipment, and spots two snipers on the roof, looking east and west. Luckily he sat towards the north, out of the range of vision of each sniper. It is going to be hard to kill both of the snipers with out alerting the rest of the terrorist soldiers on the ground.

He shifts his body into a prone position, stomach on the ground, head cocked to the right looking through the scope, hand adjusting the lens to make the shot.

He sees them reporting in and once their radios are sat back down, he kills the one looking towards the east, the sniper on the right totally oblivious. Quickly pulling the bolt back, he shifts his body once again, fixing the scope to compensate for the change in distance, and squeezes the trigger as the sniper turns around to look at his partner. The bullet catches him in the throat, surprise on his face, at his dead companion or the bullet in his throat, he didn't know, but he didn't really care.

Looking through the scope, he confirms both kills, and slings the gigantic green sniper rifle over his shoulder, resting on his back. Another gun lay on its side at his hip, an AK-74u suppressed submachine gun, the terrorist counterpart to the American MP5-Navy. AK-74u's are known for their destructive power, but amazingly high recoil. He handles it with ease, slinging the strap over his shoulder as he moves towards the guards at the side entrance.

Maneuvering through the dense forest, he comes to a stop behind a tree, just out of vision of the guards, and holds the gun to his shoulder, looking down the iron sights, a red-dot sight to risky at night. Having taken aim, he squeezes the trigger, releasing a silent bullet, and quickly switches targets and squeezes the trigger again. Both guards slump to the ground, two gigantic heaps, blood seeping from the hole caused by the bullet lodging into their craniums.

Walking swiftly to the lifeless lumps, he drags them back into the forest, one in each hand, covering the bodies under bushes. He reaches into their pockets and extracts ID cards, giving him access to the building holding Bryce. He stares at their weapons, MP-44 assault rifles, made back in WWII.

He smirks and speaks into the night air, "Really now, outdated assault rifles? Who runs this place? Oh well, it'd look nice in my gun collection. Obviously can't use 'em here, no silencers on these old pieces of metal."

He picks up one of the guns and tosses it over his shoulder, the strap digging into his tactical shirt. Ibis walks up to the door and using the ID cards of the fallen guards, he scans himself in and he is now free to roam the facility. He slips the balaclava onto his face, obscuring his face, the only thing seen are the brown of his eyes.

He moves stealthily down the halls, opening doors along the way. The first door contains three terrorists, all asleep, and he silently slits all their throats with a knife, foregoing taking the shot. Behind the second door, he find a computer room, with one man working at the computers, and he silently moves to him, and puts the pistol at his head, blowing his brains into the wall. Approaching the final door in the facility, he quickly reloads his AK-74u, checks his pistol and knives, and then puts his hand on the doorknob.

He turns the doorknob and pushes the door open in a flourish, surprising three terrorists in the room, and he puts a bullet in each of their brains, the blood running together to make a red river.

He finds Bryce in the next room over, bloody and beaten, cuts adorning his face, eyes swollen shut. Once he checks him out, he calls in the cleaners, telling them to get here quick and bring an ambulance as well. He quickly leaves, not wanting Bryce to wake up and see him. His task was to save Bryce, but not give away his identity. Anybody knowing the true identity of the Scarlet Ibis would cause a problem.

He steals into the night, turning into a shadow and melts into the darkness of the woods. Pulling out his PDA, he dials a number and holds it to his ear.

"Graham, secure."

"Ibis, secure. Agent Larkin rescued, no serious injuries. Cleaners cleaning up the scene. I'll be in Langley in the morning."

"Good work, Agent. His partner will be happy to here he's alive."

"Just doing my job, Director. Ibis, out."

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**3:29 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

Disbelief runs its course along her face, as she absorbs the information that just came from his mouth.

Eyes growing wide, she rambles, "Wait, you did a cleanup on one of our failed missions? That was you? I got a call from Graham telling me an agent was flying in to clean up our mess. Wow, so you saved Bryce Larkin, my ex-partner, killed seven terrorist, disabled a terrorist network, gathered information on bombs, and left without anybody seeing your face?"

Nodding in the affirmative, he takes her hand in his and says, "I would have introduced myself if it wasn't for orders, which I am quite glad that he issued back then, after learning Bryce's god complex ruined my life at Stanford because he didn't want me to become a CIA Agent. Ironic, huh? He gets me kicked out so I won't join the CIA, but it ends up serving as the catalyst for it. I've long come to reconcile with it, and besides, without Bryce's meddling, I wouldn't have met you.

She climbs onto Chuck's lab, resting her head beneath his chin and whispers, "Chuck Bartowski, you are one amazing man."

"I could say the same thing about you, Sarah Walker, maybe except the man part," he quips, a serious lilt to his voice.

"We're even more amazing when we're together."

The words bring tears to her eyes, and she twists in his laps, causing him to fall backwards onto the bed. Straddling his lap, she smiles deviously, and leans her head down for a kiss. He responds instantly, opening his mouth to her probing tongue, and with a quick motion, their positions are switched.

"I believe I have a couple moves to show you, Agent Walker."

"Bring 'em on, Agent Bartowski," she says seductively, pulling him down for another kiss, which leads to more amorous acts.

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa de Casey**

**4:00 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

Both walk into Casey's apartment building, fixing their hair from the physical work out that had occurred in Casa Bartowski.

"Thanks for the live porn show you two."

Sarah's face glows red, and she curses herself for forgetting Casey's bugs in Chuck's room. She sneaks a quick glance at Chuck, who is quietly laughing to himself.

"You're welcome Casey, now let's get this briefing started."

She stares at him in disbelief, the Chuck Bartowski she knew would have turned into a red ball of blush so adorable she would have had to giggle, but this Chuck Bartowski, cool and confident in the face of more fearsome opponents, was hot. Chuck Bartowski is the living embodiment of James Bond, nonchalant and smooth. Difference being, Chuck is still a lovable nerd who can separate the spy life from real life. That thought puts her mind at ease at the changing of Chuck from nerd to professional assassin.

The screen flickers on, showing the face of General Beckman sitting and Director Graham standing above her. Stern looks adorn their face as they take in the Motley Crew that is Team Bartowski.

"Where is Agent Larkin?"

"We had problems. He won't be joining us for this briefing. We'll fill him in on the information later," she says, a smile hinting on her face.

Both superiors show a smile, which is quickly schooled. Casey gives a side glance at Chuck and Sarah, who have obviously gotten over that little debacle of an asset/handler relationship.

"Okay to start things off, congratulations Mr. Bartowski on your promotion to Agent…again. He is not an asset anymore, as he is capable of looking after himself. Keep bugs in his room, but keep them down to sound bugs, no visual feeds.

Chuck and Sarah turn to each other, smile adorning their faces, and Casey grunts in disgust. He was going to have a hard time going to sleep from now on.

"What is it Major Casey?"

"Nothing, General!" he quickly says, trying to remedy the situation.

"See that it isn't. On to bigger things, the plutonium will be arriving two days from now at 2100 hours. You are to intercept the package and direct movement of NEST teams to take care of the package. As you know, this is Fulcrum. There is a reason behind it, and we need you three, plus Agent Larkin, to find the reason why. Infiltrate the stronghold and gather any information from their computers. Set hijacker viruses onto the computers, and have them screen information to NSA computers where I will have analyst pour over the data. Understood?"

"Yes, General," three voices sound out in unison, the three pairs of eyes flickering towards the faces of the others.

Graham smiles at the three and quickly adds, "Agent Walker, may I speak to you for a moment in private?"

Nodding to the other two to leave, she steps up to listen to her superior's news, good or bad. She braces herself for the upcoming conversation.

"Agent Walker, we got a call from Larkin saying you had compromised yourself with your asset and that is simply unacceptable. In my mind, you should be getting reassigned to a place so far from here that you won't even be able to make a simple phone call."

Looking down, she curses herself for forgetting to remove Bryce's phone in her haste to get to Chuck's house. Looking back up, she sees the smiles playing on the faces of her superiors, amusement playing on both. She stares back in confusion, not showing it on her face.

Picking up the conversation, Sarah tries to remedy the situation, "Director, I can explain –."

Beckman holds up her hand, cutting Sarah off from her explanation, "Agent Walker, we know you have been compromised for sometime now, but your work with the Intersect Project has been invaluable, which is why you're still here. Keep in mind, Agent Bartowski was an asset then, he is an agent now."

Sarah's eyes shine with tears as she registers the words, relationships between partners were often heard of before.

Plowing forward, Beckman continues, "Since you two are partners now, the NSA and CIA have worked it out so that you two, being Agent Bartowski and you, will have the only sanctioned relationship in the Agency. Congratulations, Agent Walker, I am sure I will be receiving an invitation to the wedding?"

"As do I."

She smiles, taking in the joy of the words of her superiors, "Thank you General, Director, and yes you will receive invites to our wedding."

A small ceremony on the beach flashes through her mind, her in a white gown, Chuck looking so dapper in his tuxedo. She sighs, and looks up at the amusing smiles of the General and Director, and she blushes.

"Call the other two back in, we still have more things to discuss."

Sarah walks into the hall and spots both of them in the courtyard, chatting and exchanging spy stories. She calls their names and they walk hastily back into the room.

"You feeling alright Sarah? Your face is kind of red."

"I'm just really, really excited because I can do this now without getting reprimanded."

Stepping onto her toes, she cranes her neck forward, giving a surprised, but eager Chuck a big wet kiss with the accompanying wet sloppy sounds a kiss like that elicits.

"Well I'm glad you can do that now, but I still don't know what you mean," he says, shrugging his shoulders indicating her to explain to him.

"Well, I just learned that we, meaning you and I, have the only, and I mean the only, sanctioned relationship in the CIA."

Her eyes light up just like his when he takes in the news. Both their heart soar into the clouds, neither coming down from the high of her words. He leans over and kisses her again, tongues dancing with fervor, until a "grunt" breaks through their eardrums. Smiling sheepishly, they turn their superiors, both with smiles on their faces.

"Ok, back to business. Since Agents Walker and Bartowski have decided to take the next step, we will be changing their cover. Agent Bartowski will be given money to create a software company. We need you to get away from the Buy More now and into something more elaborate for your appearance. Agent Walker, I know you will be disappointed, but your cover job is still at the Orange Orange. Both of you will begin apartment hunting, the government will pick up the bill. Choose your furniture and we will have it delivered to you. Agent Casey, you will stay where you are, but you will work as Agent Bartowski's security detail at his new company. Understood?

Three "Yes, Generals" elicit a smile from both Directors and they cut the connection with smiles playing on their face.

"Looks like Larkin will get a hoot out of this, losing Walker to Bartowski, and learning that Bartowski is a better Agent than he is." Casey grunts, everybody knowing his dislike for Bryce Larkin.

Sighing, "I just hope he doesn't do anything stupid after learning all this information."

"Don't worry babe, I'll make sure of it."

"Ditto."

They both look at the big, hulking man in wonderment at his addition.

"Umm Casey, what did you say?"

"I said ditto. I've lived alone a lot, and you guys have become the closest thing I have to friends. I'll be damned if Bryce Larkin shakes that up."

"So Casey, you do like us."

"Shut it Chucklebutt, you'll never see that again for as long as you live," adding a grunt to emphasize the point.

"Casey, just for the record, I like you too."

"…Thanks, Bartowski."

Sarah looks at Casey, her NSA partner. At the beginning, it was just a mutual feeling for the job. They begin to work together and they both begin to acknowledge the fact that they have become partners. Now though, they have acknowledged that they have grown to be something similar to friends. The gruff persona of the NSA agent has loosened a bit since the beginning of the assignment, Chuck wearing him down.

"Well Casey, looks like Sarah and I have some business with Bryce to take care of. Go do something constructive instead of cleaning your guns 24/7."

Casey stalks off with a grunt behind him and both Sarah and Chuck laugh at his departing figure. Turning around, he shoots them a glare and yells, "GET OUT."

Hightailing it out of Casey's apartment, they sit on the fountain, the lapping of the water mixing with their laughing. Their laughing dies down, and all that's left is a comfortable silence, the only exception the gurgling of the fountain.

Tiring of the silence, Sarah decides to speak first, "When do you want to go apartment hunting?"

"Right now, the only problem is, Bryce is still locked up at your apartment."

"He can stay there for a couple more hours; he probably deserves it for what he's done."

They laugh at the notion, but Chuck has other ideas, "Nah, let's just let him out. I'll admit, he deserves to stay there for a couple more hours, but it just doesn't feel right. Besides, we need to give him the full briefing and the…new developments," he says ending with a smile.

"Alright, well, at least I think he'll stay out of our way now."

"Let's just hope so."

Chuck stands up, walking into his apartment, and reappears a couple seconds later, keys in hand. He helps her stand up, and they walk hand in hand to his bike.

Handing her a helmet, he puts on his own, and revs the engine. She puts his arms around his stomach and rubs small circles into his abs. The feeling Chuck gets is amazing and he turns his head around, cocking his eyebrow.

"What, I can't admire your abs?"

She smirks as his face turns a deep crimson, and he shuts his visor and turns towards the parking lot. They speed out into the horizon towards her hotel and the inevitable showdown between Chuck Bartowski and Bryce Larkin.

_A/N: So, the next chapter is the Chuck/Bryce showdown. I'll have a whole Saturday to write and if I don't get it out Saturday night, Sunday night or early Monday will be the next update. R&R guys!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: As usual, I don't own Chuck. Oh, and I do not own The Coffee Bean and the Tea Leaf, but I do have to say, they make a mean blackforest roast._

_A/N: I know I said Saturday night, but it's Sunday morning, so almost the same thing. Here's chapter 5. Have fun reading._

**Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis**

**Chapter 5**

**Los Angeles, California**

**Sarah's Hotel**

**4:22 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

They pull into the parking lot of her hotel and hop off hand in hand as they make their way towards her hotel room. Both of them walk into the lobby and heads turn to look at the beautiful couple, laughing at each other's jokes. Any onlooker would say they looked perfect together.

They step into the elevator, hitting the button for the eight floor where her room is located.

"So what are you going to do about Bryce?"

"I have an idea, but before that can happen, I think you owe me a few moves."

"Really now, Chuck? You're going to torture Bryce by having him listen to us having fun?"

"Why of course!"

"You're a naughty man Chuck Bartowski," she teases, bumping her shoulder with his.

"Well, you're a naughty lady Sarah Walker," he says, mocking her previous statement.

"We're quite a pair aren't we?"

"Only the best my dear Sarah."

Reaching into her purse, she extracts her keys and opens the door, and as soon as the door is closed, Chuck pushes her into the wood of the door, an excited squeak flying from her voice.

He leans down and says in a husky voice, "So Agent Walker, I believe you have a few moves to show me?"

"Without a doubt, Agent Bartowski."

They both laugh and their lips crash together in a shockwave. They move along the walls of her hotel room before finally making it to their bed, crashing down together, with Sarah on top.

"You ready Agent Bartowski? Are you sure you can keep up with me?"

"Is that a challenge Agent Walker?"

"It sure is," she says seductively, a teasing lilt to her voice. She smiles and arches her neck down to capture his lips with hers.

***

His ears perk up at the sound of a door opening, and voices coming through the closed bathroom door. He hears the door close and a dull thud as if something had just fallen. Turning his head to the door, he wonders what is going on out there.

The unmistakable sound of a moan comes through the door, that voice only belonging to one person, Sarah Walker. The moans continue and become more frequent, driving his brain crazy. His thoughts shift to that he should be in the bedroom with her, he was the one meant for her.

Reaching into his pocket once more, he extracts the phone, "They're here in the apartment, I'll get the information from the briefing and have it sent to you ASAP."

"Good work Agent. We'll have the human intersect in our grasps soon. The other two are of no consequence, their fates are up to you. Once again, good work, Agent Larkin."

Flipping the phone shut, he speaks once again into his tile prison, "Chuck, you will pay for taking my woman."

***

After a half hour of rollicking fun, they finally decide to let down the torture set on one Bryce Larkin. Putting their clothes back on, they both stand and take deep breaths, psyching themselves up for the up and coming confrontation.

"You ready?"

"Why wouldn't I be? It's just Bryce Larkin," he says, voice deadpan.

"Well, this is the person who got you kicked out of Stanford and ruined your life."

"Not exactly ruined my life, something good did come out of it," he smiles, eyes indicating what he's talking about. She blushes and averts her eyes away, not wanting him to see the tears.

"And besides, I've stared down big, buff Russian men with Colt .45s pressed against my forehead. What's there to be scared about?" he laughs, Sarah joining in the melodic laughing of his voice.

"Well, it seems like your ready."

He flashes her a smile, and he puts his hand on the doorknob of the bathroom, and turns it, pushing the door open to reveal a handcuffed Bryce Larkin sitting on the shower tiles.

"Hey Bryce."

Bryce looks up at the man he formerly called his best friend. His insides are disgusted, but those emotions do not make it to his face, instead a stoic look appears.

"Chuck."

He watches as Chuck takes two long strides to the shower, and leans against the wall next to it, face turned towards the door. He hears the audible sigh come from his mouth as his eyes shift to the open door, watching the blonde look at Chuck in amazement and wonder.

'She should be looking at me like that,' his mind says, belligerently.

Instead of voicing that thought, this comes out, "So Chuck, you look good. An agent now huh? Congratulations."

"Well, to be honest, I've been an agent before."

They words shock Bryce to the core, Chuck had been an agent before.

"What do you mean by before?" Bryce questions, eyes betraying his confusion.

"After you falsely got me kicked out of Stanford, the CIA approached me with a job offer and my expulsion at Stanford fueled my decision. So you see, by getting me kicked out of Stanford, you didn't stop them from recruiting me, you just stopped them from recruiting me to Project Omaha."

His eyes darken in recognition, Chuck Bartowski was and is a CIA agent. He was even more dangerous now, the Intersect plus being very, very capable of defending himself. He wouldn't be surprised if he found a gun on his person right now. He curses inwardly and thinks of an idea to remedy the situation.

Chuck spends the next ten minutes explaining what happened after Stanford, and how he ended his work for the CIA, and how he came to become an Agent again. All Bryce can do is listen and absorb the fact that Chuck Bartowski is utterly, and he means utterly lethal.

Another ten minutes pass by with Chuck explaining the details of the briefing, but when it comes to the new cover, Bryce looks up, fire in his eyes.

"So you and Sarah, huh? Congratulations," he says, unable to keep the venom from his voice.

Chuck notices the change in Bryce's demeanor, but continues to plow forward, his demeanor also changing to the professional assassin, Scarlet Ibis.

"Well Bryce, it seems like L.A. had a lot more to offer than Omaha."

Hearing those words come from his mouth, he tries to rush Chuck, but to no avail, he's still handcuffed to the shower door handle.

Ibis lets out a chuckle, amusement lilting in his voice, "Now now Bryce, no need to do anything stupid. Sarah and I are more than capable of detaining you. So be a good boy and listen to the rest."

He continues to explain the new cover, and Bryce is visibly seething, his body shaking with an uncontrollable rage.

Deciding to wrap it up, "Bryce, you'll stay here in Sarah's hotel room. Sarah will be staying at my place until we find an apartment of our own. Have fun living your own lonely existence."

He walks out of the bathroom, back ramrod straight, and bends over to whisper in Sarah's ear. Bryce sees her laugh and giggle, before she turns to unlock his handcuffs. Her face instantly becomes serious when she looks at him, losing the emotions that she showed to Chuck.

"Well Bryce, looks like you're off the hook now. Meet at Castle tomorrow night at 1900 hours, we're going to set up surveillance on the port. Try not to do anything stupid, please?"

"Sarah, honestly, please don't tell me what we had wasn't love?"

"Bryce, what we had was not love, what he had was passion. It was sex, and it was a way to relieve stress. It was fun, but it didn't run any deeper than that. What Chuck and I have runs so much deeper than the physical part of a relationship. Chuck and I connect on an emotional level, something the two of us didn't have. I'm sorry Bryce, the thing between us is over."

She removes his handcuffs, leaving Bryce on the tile floor, to return to Chuck Bartowski, nerd and spy extraordinaire.

Bryce slams his newly released hand onto the tile floor, not believing he has just lost the girl to Chuck Bartowski, a nerd. Fishing in his pockets once more, he dials a number and speaks into the phone.

"Jax, secure."

"Larkin, secure. I have the information from the briefing, meet me at the coffee shop downtown in 20 minutes. I have some things to take care of here."

"Roger that, see you then."

Flipping the phone shut, he composes himself, getting ready for the confrontation with Chuck. He rips open the door, finding Sarah and Chuck at the kitchen, talking and laughing. The laughter dies down as they look on at Bryce, his face totally void of emotion.

Chuck slips back into the Scarlet Ibis, knowing that Bryce is looking for trouble.

"What's the problem now, Bryce?"

"You."

Bryce lunges at Ibis, throwing a right cross which is easily deflected, and feels the punch to his solder plexus, causing him to cough up all the air in his lungs, bringing him to his knees. A hand, cold as ice, wraps around his neck, pushing him into the wall of the kitchen.

"I told you to be a good boy Bryce, now look what happened. Don't think that I'm a rookie, I have much, much more experience than you do, don't forget that. Got it?"

Sarah watches in amazement as Chuck manhandles Bryce, holding him by the neck, nose to nose. This was Scarlet Ibis, this was the totally lethal professional assassin, not Chuck Bartowski.

"Now Bryce, are you going to be a good boy or do I have to smack some more sense into you?"

He shakes his head, and Ibis removes his hand from his neck, and slips back into the Chuck Bartowski persona. Sighing, he walks out into the hall without a backwards glance. Sarah turns towards Bryce, who is still against the wall, but slowly making his descent to a sitting position.

She stands over him with a look of pity, "Bryce, I told you not to do anything stupid. Now look what happened. You have a very pissed off Chuck and you have a very pissed off me. I don't want to see you again until we meet at Castle to set up surveillance, got it?"

Turning her back to him, she walks out the door after Chuck, overnight bag in tow, leaving Bryce to stew in his own thoughts.

"Well, that just solidified where Sarah and I are," speaking into the empty room.

He gets up and leaves the room, taking one last look where he had lost the girl he wanted. Exiting the hotel, he hails a cab, and heads off to meet his Fulcrum counterpart.

***

She finds him leaning next to his motorcycle, face in his hands, looking towards the ground. She walks up to him and wraps him up in her embrace, and her reward is his arms coming around her back.

Concern lacing her voice, she asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that Bryce Larkin always has to show up at the most terrible times, I swear to God."

"He does choose the best times to show up doesn't he."

"Yup. Come on let's go home."

She smiles at the word home and hops onto the bike behind him, once again wrapping her arms around his stomach. It just feels so natural to hold Chuck like this, trusting him with her life and heart. She sighs in content, and snuggles into his back. They zoom out into the Los Angeles traffic, heading to Casa Bartowski, also known as, home.

***

**Los Angeles, California**

**The Coffee Bean and the Tea Leaf**

**5:00 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

"They are setting up surveillance on the port tomorrow. That'll be the perfect time to capture the Intersect."

"Good work Larkin, I didn't expect this from someone who seems so loyal to the CIA."

"I have my reasons for turning my back. Regarding the Intersect's partners, leave the blonde alone, do not harm her. I want to deal with her on my own. You can do whatever you want with Major Casey."

"We'll be sure to do that. With the Intersect in Fulcrum's hand, we will be able to knock off the CIA and the NSA. Once again, Fulcrum appreciates your hard work."

Both leave the coffee shop, each turning in different directions, one to set up an ambush, and the other to wallow in their own self-pity.

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**5:15 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

They find themselves on Chuck's bed, lying in each other's embraces, neither wanting to move. Her thoughts wander to what Chuck has done in the past. His past is so interesting, Stanford, past missions, she just wants to know it all. He is able to be strong and tell her stories from his past, but she can't pull herself to do it for him. She notices him staring at her, and she suddenly has an itching to ask him about his first mission.

"Chuck, what was your first mission?"

"My first mission was here in the states, near Chinatown actually. My objective was to assassinate Triad mobster, Tang Zho."

"Your first mission was a downright assassination?" her voice, incredulous.

"Yeah, it was my first time taking a life too."

***

**Chinatown, Los Angeles, California**

**Zho's Mansion**

**9:00 PM**

**December 23, 2005**

His first mission entails the infiltration of a gigantic mansion, the stealing of information, slipping past gigantic Chinese men, and silently killing a man named Tang Zho. Simple and easy? Hardly. He takes deep breaths to psych himself up, and he slips out of the nerd persona, and into the silent ghost he is trained to be. Checking himself over, he finds his gun and knives in their places. Stepping out of the car, he melts into the night, turning into another shadow.

Approaching the side entrance, he spots two guards, no weapons visible. Sneaking in from the side, he wraps his arms around the first guards neck, pulling him to the ground, cutting off his air supply, the tell tale sound of a neck snapping telling him he is gone. The other guard turns around to find his partner dead and as he reaches for his radio, the silent assailant strikes. A chop to the neck makes him drop the radio, a punch to the stomach makes him double over, a kick to the knee drops him, and a choke hold breaks his neck.

Hiding both bodies, he stealthily makes his way to the front, finding three guards, shoulder holsters showing pistols. Slipping behind the front guard, he has to resort to using his knives to silently end the lives of the three guards. He covers his mouth, as a knife moves across the man's throat, slicing the jugular. A gurgle sounds into the night sky, but is covered by the sound of chirping crickets. Stripping the fallen man's weapon, he silently moves to the next guard, who is oblivious of the first guard's fate, and the man finds a knife sticking out of his throat. The third man notices the commotion and immediately moves towards his fallen comrade, but to no avail, a knife sprouts from his back, as he falls to the ground.

He strips both guards of their identification and quickly gains access to the mansion. He looks around and spots cameras, and he figures there must be a security control system around. Moving down the hall, he spots the door, and tries to turn the doorknob, but find it is locked. Using one of his knives, he is able to pick the lock and slip inside, but not before being noticed by the man inside.

He quickly pulls out his USP .45, the knife ineffective from such a distance, and aims down the sight, pulling the trigger to send a bullet into the man's throat, silencing him forever. Hastily moving, he shifts over to the computer console, cutting the camera feeds so he won't be seen on tape. After hiding the body in the storage closet in the room, he slips back out and slinks along the walls, a ghost in its area of expertise.

Approaching the main room, he finds three guards sitting down to dinner, all of them laughing jubilantly, unsuspecting of the shadow in their midst. Their laughing abruptly ends when they each find bullets in their throats and hearts. Quickly moving up to the three fallen guards, he drags them under the table, obscuring them from view from any onlookers.

Quickly moving out of the room, he approaches another corridor lined with wooden doors, numbers adorning their green surfaces. Sneaking a peek in the first one, he finds a room full of electronics. Sitting in the back are two men, none suspecting he is there. Continuing his assault, he slits both their throats silently, foregoing the use of bullets, trying to conserve ammunition. He accesses the computers, pulling up files containing list of Triad gang members, how they obtain their money, so on and so forth. The DEA is going to have a field day with this information.

Quickly planting hijacker viruses, he exits the room, leaving the bodies in their places. He proceeds to the second door, finding nothing but bundles of drugs and cash. Behind the third door, he finds 3 Triad gang members, in the midst of playing cards. Taking three aware Triad gang members with a knife is suicide, so he foregoes the knife, drawing out his pistol. He takes aim, putting a bullet square in the forehead of another. The other two notice the extra eye in their friend, and immediately scramble for their weapons, but they are shot down, bullets flying into their throat and heart.

Exiting the room, he turns a corner, finding the stairs leading to the second floor of the mansion. There he finds another set of doors, but there is only money and drugs stowed behind them.

Finally reaching the end of the hall, he pulls out his pistol, ready to take a shot if necessary. He slowly pushes the door open, carefully not to make a sound, and finds a man in deep slumber. There he is, the man he's looking for, Tang Zho. Quickly moving to his bed, he slits his throat, blood gurgling through the wound. The loss of blood to his brain kills him immediately, leaving a lifeless shell of a man.

Walking over to the window, he opens it up and hooks himself up to a cabinet drawer, rappelling himself down and out of the mansion and into the cool night air. He makes a solid job into the night towards his car, only stopping to clime the gate. Hopping into his vehicle, he drives off, his spy persona finally dropping from the man. He turns back into Chuck Bartowski, and tears begin to cloud his eyes, causing him to pull over.

He looks back on the events of what just transpired, disgusted with himself. He tells himself that this is what he signed up for, and he was just doing his job. He stows the memories to the very back of his brain, and he puts back the emotionless face back on.

He thinks it will get easier as time goes, but boy is he wrong. For now though, that is what he believes, and that reassures him of what he is doing. He speeds away into the night, leaving only a wisp of smoke from the exhaust pipe of his midnight black Porsche.

"Graham, secure."

"Bartowski, secure. Objectives completed, highjacker viruses uploading information now. Tang Zho confirmed dead along with twelve other Triad gang members. Also discovered stashes of drugs and money. The DEA is going to have a field day."

"Good work Agent Bartowski. Congratulations on your first completed mission."

"Thank you, sir."

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**6:00 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

Tears flow to his eyes, falling in cascades to the comforter below. Sarah wraps him in her embrace, letting him sob onto her shirt. All she can do is lend him her shoulder to cry on, words unnecessary.

Finally composing himself, he leans over and kisses her softly. Their lips linger for a moment before they crash together once again, both bodies falling onto the soft mattress.

He speaks into her ear, voice husky with emotion, "You still have the handcuffs?"

She blushes, remembering she had packed the handcuffs for those exact reasons. She looks up at him, a mischievous smile playing on his face.

"Yes I did. Those we can use later, I want me some Chuck right now."

He laughs, and pulls her down for another kiss. His hands sidle their way down her sides, the contact of his fingers through her shirt causing her to shudder. Moving one hand to his chest, and the other to his hair, she can feel his hands squirm under her shirt. She moans at the contact and she raises her arms to allow him to take her shirt off. He ogles her for a second before returning his hands to her back, seconds from popping the clasp on her bra.

She moans as his hand edge their way up her back to reach her bra, but a knock sounds out and the door opens to a surprised Ellie, red cruising its way up her face.

"OH MY GOD, I'm so sorry. I saw Sarah's Porsche outside and assumed she was in here. I wanted to ask, are you staying for dinner?" she smiles sheepishly, face still red with embarrassment.

Looking down at Chuck, who had buried his face into his pillow, she laughs and manages to choke out, "Yeah Ellie, I'm staying, every night in fact. Can't miss out on your awesome cooking."

Chuck lifts his head, eyes shining, while Ellie's head shoots up, and Sarah laughs at their expressions, one of them in happiness, and one in shock.

"You're moving in? With Chuck?" the excitement palpable in her voice.

"Yeah, I'll be over at my place tomorrow to grab some things to bring over."

Ellie taking two big strides, gather both her brother and his girlfriend in a big hug, causing both their airways to stop working.

"Ellie, WE NEED TO BREATHE," Chuck manages to choke out.

"Sorry, I'm just really excited."

"Since when are you not," he quips, earning a punch to his shoulder.

"You may be my brother, but I can still hurt you."

"I wouldn't doubt it sister."

"Anyways, dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. Don't have too much fun in here, if you know what I mean."

A booming, "Awesome" is heard from the living room, causing all three to laugh, two of them falling onto the bed, the other making her exit out of the room.

They stare at the ceiling, hand in hand, reveling in the pleasure that they can do this without the constant nagging of Casey and their superiors.

"Well, it seems like they approve."

"I'm glad that they do. I love Ellie like a sister and Devon like a brother."

"I'm glad that you do. Both of them have come to think of you as family. I hope you have come to think of us as a surrogate family as well."

"Of course, you guys are the closest thing I've had to a family in a long time. You've been generous and caring and I could never have asked for a better group of people to call family."

A tear slides down her face, and Chuck wipes it away with his thumb. He caresses her cheek with his fingers, drawing her in for a long kiss.

"What can we possibly do for fifteen minutes?" he says to no one in particular.

"Oh, I have a couple ideas," she says, a wicked smile appearing on her face.

"Care to share?"

She smiles wickedly and cranes her neck down for a deep, smoldering kiss.

***

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**6:30 PM**

**February 01, 2008**

Dinner is fun and light, full of smiling and laughing. Even Casey comes over, joining in on the fun. Jokes are cracked, at the expense of Chuck of and Sarah, who turn a deep crimson red. Stories of Chuck's childhood are told, and in turn Chuck tells them about Ellie's childhood, which earns him a hard punch to the shoulder. Dinner comes to an end, Casey leaving for his apartment, smiling for the first time in years.

They all settle on to the couch, watching a movie. Sarah sitting in Chuck's lap, Chuck's hands holding hers, and she leans back to snuggle into him some more. He looks down, the dazzling smile only for her making its way through. She returns the smile and continues her snuggling.

Suddenly feeling bold, she looks up at him, and whispers, "I love you. I know I don't say it too often, but I really do love you. I've never, ever been in a serious relationship like ours. This is hard for me and I hope you understand."

She looks back down, takes in a deep breathe, and looks back up to see his eyes shining.

"Don't worry Sarah. We'll get each other through this. I'll always be here for you. I love you."

She snuggles even closer into his embrace, and listening to his heartbeat, she falls asleep on the couch, in the arms of the man she loves.

***

In the courtyard, a shadow appears from the archway. It watches the scene inside the apartment, all the people inside laughing and smiling. It lets out a lone tear, which is quickly swiped away and is replaced with rage at the scene before him.

"I'm sorry Chuck. This is all going to come to an end."

It slinks back out into the open street, disappearing in the crowd, becoming a ghost.

_A/N: So, hope you like the twist…is, but whatever. I got this out quick because I love writing so much. I won't be around in the weeks after the next because of NaNoWrImO 2009! 50k words in a month, think you can handle it? Hehe, probably start another Chuck fic there and once I'm done, probably post on FF(dot)net. Hope you guys enjoyed Chapter 5. R&R_


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: Standard disclaimers. I don't own Knotts or the Cinnabon._

_A/N: I haven't updated this in a while. I threw this together quite quickly, so don't expect anything amazing. I had to use Knott's as I was there for Knott's Scar Farm. Fun stuff. I also love Cinnabon's cinnamon rolls. THEY'RE SO GOOD. Here's Chapter 6 for you guys._

**Chuck vs. the Scarlet Ibis**

**Chapter 6**

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**10:00 AM**

**February 02, 2008**

Opening her sleepy eyes, she catches sight of curly brown hair, and memories of last night attack her mind. A smile finds its way to her face and she looks at his peaceful face. It's so serene and untainted, so unlike the looks he gets when he tells her his past deeds.

"Stop staring at me," a muffled and quite sleepy voice says.

"What, I can't stare?"

"Haven't you heard that staring is rude?"

"Are you calling me rude now Chuck?" she says as her hand begins to pinch his upper arm.

"No, OW, no Sarah, OW, I'm just saying that the act of staring is rude, not you," he says, trying to appease her while dealing with the pain in his arm.

"Are you sure that's what you meant?" she questions, seriousness in her voice as she squeezes a bit harder.

"Yes, Sarah, yes. You can let go now! AHHHHHHHHHHHH," he ends with a scream.

Finally letting go, a satisfied smile finds its way to her face. She watches him sit up and begin to rub his arm where she had just pinched it.

"You've stared down big, burly Russian men, but you can't deal with your girlfriend?"

"Well, granted my girlfriend is a trained CIA Agent, I suppose not," he says, voice a little more alert, stifling a yawn.

"The last time I checked, aren't you a trained CIA Agent as well?"

"Well, I can't very well use my guns and knives on my girlfriend," he says, a snort following quickly.

All she can do is laugh and sit up, leaving his still unmoving form on the bed. She walks into the bathroom to take a shower and freshen up from the rigorous activities of the day and night before. After brushing her teeth, she steps into the shower and revels in the warmth of the water. The slide of the glass door opens, revealing a very naked Chuck.

"Can I join you?" he says, smirk on his face.

Rolling her eyes, she pulls him into the shower, his hand reaching to close the shower door.

***

**2 Minutes Later…**

In the master bedroom, a sleepy Ellie opens her eyes to the sunlight washing down on her brown hair. Rubbing the sleepiness out of her eyes, she sits up, remembering that Devon is on shift at the hospital. Finally getting around to standing up, she slips on a robe and makes her way to the bathroom. Still too sleepy to register the sounds coming from the bathroom, she stifles a yawn and turns the doorknob of the door. Stepping inside, she walks over to the sink and looks into the mirror and sees…

In her own Bartowski fashion, she immediately claps her hand over her eyes and runs out the door, screaming, "I DID NOT WANT TO SEE THAT."

All Chuck and Sarah can do is stare at each other, stunned expressions written all over their faces.

"Trust me when I say, turnabout is fair play."

All Sarah can do is raise an eyebrow in intrigue at his statement. Feeling lips on her neck, she lets out a moan, continuing their little jaunt in the shower.

***

**15 minutes later...**

Chuck and Sarah enter the living room, finding a slightly, okay more than slightly, mortified Ellie sitting on the barstool, eyes totally in the distance. Hands shaking, she slowly moves the spoon from the bowl of cereal to her mouth, milk shaking off the sides of her spoon. Maneuvering their way around Ellie, they move into the kitchen, Sarah carrying a confused look on her face, while Chuck's face is full of amusement.

Finally reaching the kitten, Sarah finally confronts him, "Okay, what is so amusing about Ellie finding us in the middle of showering?"

"Well, a little while back, I caught Devon and Ellie in the same compromising position. So, I find it kind of amusing. That's what I meant when I said turnabout is fairplay."

A simple, "Oh," escapes her mouth.

"So yeah, you see how this is kind of fun for me."

"I see your point."

"Yeah."

Finally getting around to open the pantry, without turning around he asks, "What do you want for breakfast? Pancakes?"

She only nods, and then his next statement surprises her.

"Chocolate chips?"

Looking up, she notices him staring at her with the goofy smile that extends to his eyes.

She replies with a subdued, "Yes," looking back in wonderment at how he knew she likes chocolate chips in her pancakes.

Finally turning his head to look back into the pantry, she allows herself to steal a glance at Ellie, who still looks lost. Deciding that the continued silence from Ellie is not a very good sign, she decides to go have a chat with her.

Taking a seat next to Ellie at the counter, she sits there for a minute, seeing if Ellie is going to react to it. To no avail, Ellie continues to move her spoon in a robotic fashion from bowl to mouth.

Sighing, she finally gets down to business, "Ellie, are you okay?"

The spoon comes to a stop right outside her mouth. She slowly turns her head, sweat dripping profusely from her temple, and when she finally faces Sarah, the look on her face is pure terror.

"I think I'm scarred for life."

"Errr…"

A gruff laugh is heard from across the courtyard, from the approximate location of one John Casey's apartment. All three heads turn to the noise, two of them in embarrassment, the other in intrigue, although still disturbed.

Turning back to the matter at hand, Sarah says, "Ellie, maybe you should take the day off…and relax. Try to forget what you saw this…morning."

"NO. NO NO NO NO NO. Doing nothing will not erase it from my mind. Gotta work. GOTTA WORK!"

Standing up abruptly, she quickly makes a turn, hightailing it to her room to go call in that she is coming in.

"Wow that was quite a reaction."

Turning around, she finds Chuck, two hot plates of pancakes held in both his hands. Setting them down on the countertop, he takes a seat next to her, the one just occupied by Ellie.

"Well, that went over well."

"Yeah, I hope she forgets."

"I doubt it. It took me forever to scrub that image from my brain the time I saw them in the shower together. Eww... that brought back those painful memories," he says, shuddering as the memories run rampant in his head.

"Good thing I didn't see them huh…."

"You're lucky you didn't."

Finally settling down enough to eat, Sarah cuts herself a piece and pops it in her mouth, moving it this way and that. Reveling in the pleasure of the taste that is attacking her synapses, she quickly cuts herself another piece, then another, and another.

Watching Sarah speed her way through the pancakes, he cannot help but find it funny. An inadvertent chuckle comes out, hands flying to his mouth as if trying to push the sounds of the laugh back in his mouth. Sarah's head darts towards the origin of the sound, the one and only, Chuck. Chuck closes his eyes, expecting a short burst of pain, but instead, he feels that burst of pain, but it continues on for a long while. Finally opening his eyes, he looks over to his left, finding his skin being pulled and squished by two of Sarah's fingers.

"What's so funny, Chuck?" she says, seriousness written all over her voice.

"Nuh. Nuh. Nothing Sarah. Nothing's funny," he says through the pain assaulting his brain.

"Are you sure? That laugh didn't sound like nothing," she says, pushing her fingers together with a little more force.

"OW, OW, OW, oh dear lord, stop this pain," he moans, and Sarah taking pity on him, finally lets go.

"Okay Chuck, make sure that the little fiasco there doesn't happen again Chuck."

"I'll make sure it doesn't," he says, massaging his arm to try and soothe the pain in his arm.

"I think you pinched me in the same spot this morning."

"Don't make me do it a third time," she retorts quickly, sending him a glance that tells him to close his mouth as it opens to take a shot back.

Quickly closing his mouth, he turns back to finish his breakfast, neither talking, but taking in the feeling of being a normal couple, bickering and talking over small little things. Sarah hadn't felt like this in ages, not even with Bryce.

Midway through breakfast, Ellie shoots past them at high speeds, trying to get out of the apartment where new and disturbing memories were created. They can hear her shoes click against the gravel, three times a second. Hearing the car engine ignite, she pulls straight out of the parking lot as fast as she can, the screech that is heard a testimony. They both let out a laugh and continue their breakfast.

Finally finish their breakfast, they both stumble over to the couch, not sure what to do until they have to start surveillance. Chuck lies back on the couch, Sarah lying on top of him, her ear pressed against his chest, his arms wrapped across her back. Just being in Chuck's arms is ten times better than any physical release. Well, maybe except if that physical release was with Chuck. She shudders at the thoughts that elicit a cocked eyebrow from Chuck. She looks up and smile sheepishly and puts her head back down on his chest.

A niggling feeling makes its way to her mind. She wonders where Chuck learned to cook. The curiosity in her takes the better of her and she just has to voice her question.

"Chuck?"

"Yes, Sarah?"

"Where'd you learn to cook?"

"What? It's not hard to make pancakes," he says, totally deadpan.

"Well, those were the best pancakes I've ever eaten."

"Why, a compliment? From Sarah?" he says, fake astonishment all over his voice.

"Remember what I said about a third time?" she warns, voice turning downright dangerous.

He baits her on and says, "Well, I just followed the instructions on the box."

"Oh, you're impossible," she says, her hand reaching over to his left arm again.

"Okay, okay, I'll tell you. Just stop pinching me," he says, acquiescing to her demands.

"Good boy."

"Damn it lady," he says under his breath, not quite low enough as Sarah is still able to catch it.

"What?"

"Nothing!" he says, voice an octave higher than before.

"Anyways, I learned to cook as a necessity for a mission. They had me learn how to cook in a week. Surprisingly though, I found it fun and quite easy. Anyways, I'm babbling. On with the story!"

Sarah can only raise her eyebrows in intrigue as he tells another story from his past.

***

**Bern, Switzerland**

**Mansion of the Dinner**

**5:30 PM**

**Octotober 18, 2005**

Maneuvering his way around the kitchen, he darts from one point to another, doing preparation on all the ingredients to be used in the evening's meal. Deftly slicing through the last bit of cabbage, he rinses and cleans off all the cutting boards, getting plates and dishes ready to be moved, and checks on the all the cooking instruments.

Noting everything in tip top condition, he pulls out his phone, taking one last look at his mission objective. One short line:

_Kill all six men._

Four simple words have so much power. Those words control what he does and on occasion, how he does it. It dictates so much of his life, a better part of two years now. Shaking his head to remove the thoughts, he focuses just getting through the next phase of his mission.

***

**Bern, Switzerland**

**Mansion of the Dinner**

**6:00 PM**

**Octotober 18, 2005**

People begin to enter, all of them very dignified, but all of them tied to funding terrorist factions. Making his way through the kitchen, he fires up the ovens and the stove tops. Making sure everything is in place, he begins tossing things into the pan, shaking and moving the pan. Flipping the vegetables inside the pan, he pours in some wine, causing red flames to ignite from the food. After figuring that the food is finished, he spoons it into the plate, tossing it into the plate racks for the waiters to take out.

Ibis figures that he'll put poison in the food. The only problem being is the other chefs are around looking at him. Figuring it best to just continue until he has a chance, he begins to work on the next dish.

Dinner soon comes to an end, with only dessert left to serve. Maneuvering his way around the kitchen, he approaches the chef in charge of cooking dinner. Accidentally bumping into him, he causes the chef to turn around, allowing Ibis to slip the poison into the food. His work finished, he makes his apology and quickly retreats to his station where he begins clean up. In a couple hours, all six men will be dead, and his task complete.

After all his guests leave, the owner of the mansion stands up and heads to his study. Ibis sheds his chef persona and slips into Agent mode. Moving lithe movements around the home, he quickly locates the man's studies, finding that the man had already fallen asleep.

"Thank God for the poison."

A side-effect was the inducement of sleep in a very short time within consumption. Maneuvering his way around the study, he picks up papers and accesses the man's computers. Plugging in a jump drive, he siphons the information from the computer to the drive. Pulling out the drive, he inserts another, this time a hijacker virus that'll upload all the information on his computer to CIA databases. His secondary task finished, he quickly moves out of the study, checking the pulse of the sleeping man. Feeling his fluttering and weak pulse, he can tell it is near the end for his victims. Making his way out of the room, he descends the stairs, and exits through the back, nobody the wiser. Stripping off the balaclava, he shakes out his hair and makes a light jog to the car he has stowed in the back. Hopping in, he flips open his phone and does the usual, calls in the complete mission and then leaves for the airport.

**Echo Park, California**

**Casa Bartowski**

**11:30 AM**

**February 02, 2008**

"You went undercover as a chef?"

"If you couldn't tell from the story, then yes, I went undercover as a chef," he answers, voice mocking her question.

"Well, you're going to have to cook me dinner one day."

Smirking, he says, "I'll do my best."

Falling into another comfortable silence, they continue to hold each other in their embraces, neither wanting to lose contact with the other.

The door emits a loud creak as it swings open, revealing a slightly disheveled Devon. Blonde hair skewed to the side, shoulders hunched forwards with arms hanging limply at his side. Letting loose a big sigh of relief, they watch him gingerly make his way into the living room and plop down straight on the couch.

Chuck lets out a tentative, "Devon," which is answered with a low drone of, "Uhhhhh,"

Straightening themselves out from their compromising position, much to the disappointment of both parties, they both look at Devon who has his eyes closed and hands glued to his forehead.

"You okay bro?" Chuck asks concern clear in his voice.

"Yeah, Chuckster. A bit tired. Oh and what's with Ellie. I saw her run into work today and I know she has the day off today. What gives?" he questions while looking back and forth at his soon-to-be-brother-in-law and his girlfriend.

Red finds its way up both of their faces, turning them into red cherries, any more red making them too bright to look at.

Gathering up is nerves, he turns to Devon and he quickly says, "She caught us in the shower."

The moment the words hit his ears, Devon sits right up and starts laughing his head off. Forgetting his weary status, he stands up, takes one long stride over to Chuck, and claps him on the back, reminiscent of the time he came home. He grits his teeth and thinks, 'I've only been up an hour and a half, STOP THIS PAIN.'

Much to the chagrin of Chuck and Sarah, he doesn't stop there.

"Good work Chuck. Knew you could it."

If possible, both turn even more red, turning them into big bright balloons that just want to sail away from embarrassment.

Still laughing and clearly relieved of his state of weariness, he moves to the bathroom to clean up all the gunk and blood off of him from working all night.

"Well, I think I'm thoroughly embarrassed for today."

"Yeah, I think that's quite enough."

To only make things worse, gruff laughter is heard, again, from the courtyard.

Sighing, Chuck turns to Sarah, "Well, you wanna go do something fun?"

"Anything is better than this."

Chuck's eyes light up as the gears in his brain start turning. Looking in his warm brown eyes, she can tell what he is thinking.

Rolling her eyes, she shoots down the idea quickly, "No, we're not going to go play video games. I meant, let's go do something that includes our whole body, not just our hands and eyes."

"Well, if we're not going to play video games, it looks like we're going to have to go to plan B," he sounds out, his eyes with a mischievous glint to them.

"What is this, plan B?" Sarah questions, eyebrows arching.

"You'll see."

***

**Buena Park, California**

**Knott's Berry Farm**

**1:20 PM**

**February 02, 2008**

"What is Knott's Berry Farm?" Sarah ask, confusion written all over the place.

All he can do is swivel his head in her direction, drop his jaws, and open his eyes wide in amazement. All Sarah can do is look back, eyes apologetic and chuckle uncomfortably.

Finally schooling his face, he manages to squeak out, "Oh Sarah, we have to change that."

Pushing her into the theme park, she scans the front of it, noting all the children, parents, food stands, and other stands offering t-shirts, cups, and various other items. Looking to her left, she sees what looks like an old railroad and a second later, a cart drops by, hands in the air, screams carried down to her by the wind. Turning around, she find Chucks jogging up to her, map in hand to help navigate through the gigantic theme park.

Putting his arm around her back, he guides her into the heart of the theme park. When they approach the first rollercoaster, the Jaguar, Sarah looks up and feels kind of apprehensive.

Chuck looks at her from the corner of his eye and notices her hesitation. Nudging her to catch her attention, he leans into her ear and whispers, "Don't worry, Sarah. Remember why we're here. It's fun and it's only us. Nobody else but you and me. I'll hold your hand the whole ride and I'll never let go. Trust me Sarah, it'll be fun."

Turning him a gaze of wonderment, she is still in awe at how he can appease her so well. His smile is so reassuring that she can't help but smile back and take his hand in hers, and eagerly pulls him forward to the front of the line.

"If you say so Chuck."

And boy did he say so. She found it fun flying through the air, the wind blowing through her hair causing it to fly this way and that. Her hands fly through the air, and she laughs as her body whips through the air. Her other hand is held down by Chuck. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see him looking at her instead of focusing on the ride.

"Why are you looking at me the whole time on the ride?"

"Eh, I don't find the ride as interesting."

Crimson finds its way to her face, and the only way she can express her happiness is through a wet kiss on the lips that elicit mothers to clap their hands over their eyes and give the couple the evil-eye. Ignoring their snooty looks, they continue their lip lock for a little over, say, five minutes.

Finally breaking for air, they stop in front of the log ride. Standing in line, they slowly trudge their way to the front and to their log seats. As they move through the cave, they listen to the sounds of the cave.

Just before the final drop, he puts his lips next to her ear, causing Sarah to shudder.

"Sarah, turn around in ten seconds."

At that exact moment, they plunge down towards the bottom of the ride. Still keeping her wits about her, she turns around at the time he tells her. What surprises her though is that he kisses her and she hears a _click_ as if a camera had just taken a picture.

Exiting the ride, Chuck drags Sarah over to the booth where they keep the pictures of the final plunge. Pulling up there picture, he allows Sarah to take a look at them. Both of them had their eyes closed as their lips moved together.

"Wow."

"Yeah, you want a few mementos?" he says, smile, already knowing what her answer is going to be.

Nodding her head while still looking at the pictures, he sets them to print out a pair of regular size photos and a key chain size picture for his key ring.

Holding onto the picture for dear life, Sarah embeds the picture into her mind, burning it into her brain forever.

"You hungry?" he says, his stomach telling his brain he is.

"Nope, I'm happy with what I have now," she says quickly, truly happy with the picture.

Her stomach had other ideas though. It lets out a rumble as she finishes the statement, causing her to look up embarrassed and red in the face. A knowing smile flies onto his face and he guides her into the restaurants right next to the log ride.

Bellies finally full, they exit the restaurants, only to find Chuck's phone ringing. Groaning, he reaches into his pocket and sees the image of one John Casey. Pushing the screen to connect him to Casey, he holds the phone to his ear.

"What is it Casey?"

"We're starting surveillance in a couple of hours. Now If you're finished, get your asses back to Burbank!"

"Jeez Casey, no need to yell, I heard you clearly. Alright, Sarah and I will be back in two hours at most. See you there Casey."

Disconnecting the phone, he turns to Sarah, a disappointed look on his face.

"Well, it looks like we have to cut this short. I'm sorry Sarah."

"No need to be sorry Chuck, it's not your fault. Besides, you've given me one of the best days of my life, a picture to remember it, and the man that made it all real."

Wrapping him in a hug, they stand there for a couple minutes, arms intertwined and bodies in contact. Both sigh in content, neither wanting to let go.

"Sarah, we have to go."

With a huff, she lets go, allowing him to lead her out of the park. Before leaving though, she pulls him into the Cinnabon outside.

After getting their rolls, they hop into his car, and drive off towards Burbank, another memory locked inside their minds forever.

***

**Los Angeles, California**

**The Docks**

**11:00 PM**

**February 02, 2008**

"This is boring."

"Definitely."

"Ditto."

Grunt.

"It doesn't seem right either. Where are they? They should be getting ready for the plutonium. What are they doing?" Chuck sounds out, intrigue lacing his voice.

'I don't know Chuck, but it's our mission so keep to it."

"Yes, dear," he says, smiling.

"Oh dear God, blow my brains out now," grunts Casey, agonized by their bouts of lovemaking.

All Chuck and Sarah do is laugh and Casey just grunts.

Neither notice the dark, brooding man in the back.

He leans down, neither of the three in front noticing his actions. He speaks into his wristwatch, letting loose a single line.

"Commence Operation Triple Threat."

"Yes, sir."

_A/N: There is Chapter 6 for you guys. I'll be updating this a lot quicker now as I have finished my other fic. Hope you enjoyed. R&R._


End file.
